


As Morning Shows The Day

by Hekate1308



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Good Omens Fusion, Angel!Morse, Apocalypse, Demon!Jakes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25334011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: “I am telling you I am not risking another reprimand -”“That’s hardly my fault” Jakes shrugged, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket.In which an angel and a demon try to avert the Apocalypse despite not being very good at it.An Endeavour Good Omens AU
Relationships: Peter Jakes/Endeavour Morse
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	As Morning Shows The Day

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, you can blame those edits on tumblr for this. I planned a drabble, and five minutes later I was researching the history of crosswords puzzles. Expect quite a bit of Good Omens thrown in. Enjoy!

**Prologue – 6000 BC**

Morse didn’t like this task.

It was, of course, blasphemy to think like this; and since the others had only been cast out such a short time ago, this made him rather nervous – or would have made him nervous, if he had yet had any idea of the concept.

It just so happened that he’d been the first to decipher the message She had sent through the Metatron, and therefore Gabriel had considered it an honour and a privilege to send him.

But the humans – Adam and Eve – they looked so vulnerable as he explained to them that they had to leave the Garden. And she was expecting already, apparently.

He folded his arms behind his back, hoping it would make him feel more in control and angelic.

It didn’t.

His wings flattered nervously as he continued to talk, but thankfully they didn’t know enough about angels to realize they were doing so because he was uncomfortable.

He should have left then, but unable to watch them leave without any help whatsoever, he ordered them to leave through the Eastern wall, knowing fully well that the Principality who guarded it was sympathetic to Her new creation. Then he watched them leave, feeling worse than ever.

“Well” someone suddenly drawled behind him, “Those two didn’t look very happy, did they?”

He turned to find a – a –

A demon.

He’d never been so close to one of the Fallen before, not since before the War.

“They weren’t supposed to be happy” he said stiffly. “They were receiving punishment.”

To his dismay, the demon – his corporation was somewhat taller than Morse’s, and with darker hair, but those eyes with the slit pupils and the dark wings easily proclaimed to the world what he was – snorted. “And for what? Eating an apple.”

“They weren’t supposed to!”

“So? Why put it in the Garden to begin with, then? I’ve been talking to the Serpent; he said the same thing –“

“Yes, because you’re bad! You’re demons!”

“So?” he asked again, looking around. Then he suddenly scooped down and picked up a few leaves. “Say, what do you think one can do with stuff like this?”

“What would you do?” he asked, rather confused because this demon had just… walked up to him and begun a conversation. Just like that. As if they weren’t on opposite sides.

“You could maybe… I don’t know. Roll them up, set them on fire.”

“Whatever for!?”

“To see it, of course!” He studied Morse. “Aren’t you curious?”

“Curiosity is what got the humans banned from the Garden.”

He sighed. “You angels. All so obedient.”

“That’s why we’re still in Heaven” he pointed out.

“And, how’s that working out for you? You having a lot of fun up there?”

“Having fun is not the point” he replied sternly, not wanting to admit that sometimes, all the praising and singing and preaching did rather go on his nerves.

Gabriel was an awful stickler to the rules. And Michael… Best not go there.

“If you say so, angel.”

He didn’t know why he called him by his species, so he didn’t comment on it.

He was already in danger because he was talking to one of the Fallen anyway. Maybe this demon had a plan? Maybe he was going to fight him?

“Maybe it would smell nice” he was now musing over the leaves again.

Alright, maybe not.

Morse watched the clouds that had been busy turning grey for a while, now. Hadn’t Gabriel spoken about this new thing? Rain, he believed he’d said.

And then he felt it.

Water, falling from the skies.

Oh no. And the humans had just lost their shelter…

He looked somewhat miserably into the direction they had disappeared into. He hoped the Principality had been kind to them.

Suddenly, the rain stopped. He looked up, expecting the clouds to disperse, but instead found the demon had simply decided to shield him with one of his black wings.

“Thank you” he said for lack of anything else to say.

His counterpart looked surprised and he realized he probably hadn’t expected his gratitude.

“I – I mean – “ He broke off, then repeated. “Thank you. I wasn’t enjoying the sensation.”

He shrugged, still playing around with the leaves; he was actually rolling them up. “I don’t mind.” He threw the leaves away. “Should better be going, though. Me and the Serpent have to report back.” He turned without another word.

Morse would never know what made him do it, but he called out, “Wait!”

The demon turned.

“I’m Morse. What’s your name?”

He seemed to be considering the question for a moment, then replied, “You can call me Jakes” and disappeared, leaving the angel rather put out by the simple way in which he seemed to have picked his own name.

**Oxford – 1965**

“I am telling you I am _not_ risking another reprimand -”

“That’s hardly my fault” Jakes shrugged, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket.

This was one of the few human vices Morse had never understood.

“After all” he continued, “it’s your own bloody business if you let yourself grow attached to humans. And a miraculous recovery from a bullet in your chest is hardly easy to hide -”

“He’s a good man!”

“So it was worth the reprimand, then?”

Morse was silent because deep down, he knew that it had been, and the knowledge troubled him, as always when he defied Heaven’s orders.

“See? And so’s this. This isn’t just one good man, angel; we’re talking about the whole world here.”

“I know that” he snapped.

“No reason to shout. I’m not the one who’ll have to spend eternity without their favourite Rosalind Calloway records.”

Morse wouldn’t meet his eyes.

The demon had always been too good at reading the truth in his.

He’d known at the time that he wasn’t supposed to heal DI Thursday, of course. But he’d felt guilty enough that he hadn’t managed to prevent his injury in the first place, and he was such a honest, decent man, he hadn’t been able to stand the thought that he only had weeks left.

Not, he thought bitterly, that it meant much. He’d given him an extra year, because of course Jakes was right.

The Apocalypse was about three months away, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Although Jakes had once more been trying to convince him that they should try for the past half hour.

* * *

The child that was destined to end the world would probably have told anyone who let her know of the fact that right now, she wouldn’t have anything against it.

As a matter of fact, Milly Robbins was feeling rather put out and down upon. Mum had told her off for drawing on the walls, although the walls were white and boring and why would anyone want a white, boring wall? And she’d promised to tell Dad, so there’d be another telling off in the evening.

She kicked a pebble off the sidewalk and sighed. The world was unfair, especially when one was a young girl who had been reprimanded and was only nine years old (although she probably would have used very different words).

Why did no one understand her, anyway? She just wanted to make the world a prettier place.

All things considered, Morse would probably have considered this ironic.

* * *

 _Come on, angel_ , Jakes pleaded in his head, _You want this as little as I do. I know you. I have known you for over six thousand years now._

Yes, they were supposed to be enemies, but they’d stumbled over each other so often in the course of earth’s history that he was ready to call them friends at this point, even though Morse probably wouldn’t have agreed.

As a matter of fact, they had even started helping each other out occasionally in – had it been 1022? Really? That long ago?

The truth was that, deep down, Jakes _liked_ Morse; and furthermore, he’d begun to suspect rather early on in their acquaintance that _like_ might have been too weak a word.

Morse frowned at him in the way he did at a difficult crosswords puzzle, and he shoved down the fondness that was threatening to engulf him.

Even if Morse agreed to his plan, there was no way he would ever… reciprocate his feelings. He was an angel, Jakes was a demon and they were, as the former loved to remind him, on opposite sides.

Most of the time.

“You know, and it’s not just the clever little humans or your music you’ll have to do without” he tried once more. “There’ll be no more crosswords puzzles, no more pubs, no more books…”

He simply repeated “I know that.”

“And you can’t tell me She doesn’t love this” he indicated their surroundings by waving around with his cigarette “enough to want someone to try and save it.”

He looked shocked. “But it’s Her plan –“

“How do we know that? She hasn’t talked to anyone in millennia!”

“No” Morse shook his head and got up “I am not listening to this.”

“No – you don’t understand –“ Jakes hurried after him. “I’ve got a plan, angel!”

He could tell the exact moment Morse gave in from the way his shoulders slumped. “Fine. Come over to my place tonight; my lunch break’s over. I have to get back.”

Jakes had never understood Morse’s insistence that he had to have a job, but the angel apparently considered it his duty to help and protect humans in any way he could. Over the millennia, that had led to several problems – despite being rather sensitive, he’d forced himself to work as a doctor or nurse multiple times; during the Black Plague, he’d almost discorporated from sheer distress. If Jakes hadn’t shown up in time …

“Fine. See you tonight, then.”

Morse didn’t answer as he walked away.

Jakes took another deep drag of his cigarette and watched the world go by.

He only hoped it wasn’t for the last time.

* * *

This was dangerous. It was, of course, always dangerous when he met up with Jakes; if Heaven ever found out… not to mention what Hell would do if they became aware that Jakes worked with Morse now and then…

But this, this was something else entirely. This was going against the Divine Plan.

He reasoned with himself that he hadn’t agreed to anything just yet; Jakes would just come by for a drink, as he had often done before, and they would talk. There was no reason for Morse to agree with anything, or do anything.

After all, the divine plan…

He walked past a bookshop and sighed. Jakes was right – he would really miss good music, and books, and his beloved crosswords puzzles; but what could they, what could a single angel and demon do? It was hopeless.

* * *

“Ah, Morse. Good lunch break?”

“Yes, thank you, sir.”

Jakes, when he’d first told him about his new job, had declared he should have made himself something higher than a mere constable; but given his corproartion’s apparent age, it would have felt unfair to Morse.

And he quite liked working under Inspector Thursday, even if the man had an unfortunate tendency to explode and sometimes punch suspects.

“Hey, matey”.

He returned Strange’s greeting and went to his desk, sighing as he saw the paperwork. He’d never figured out how to type adequately, and now he hardly the time left to do so.

Feeling only slightly guilty, he used a quick miracle to ensure that the reports were typing themselves and no one noticed.

There were more important things to dwell on, in any case.

* * *

Jakes had always preferred clear, straight lines, and his flat reflected that.

Morse, on the other hand, he’d learned very soon after meeting him, was a bit of a hoarder, and so his place was packed full with LPs, books, half-filled out crosswords and several bottles of a most excellent Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

Jakes wouldn’t admit to anyone, not even himself, that he loved it almost as much as he loved…

“Well, hello, what are you doing there?” he asked, looking down at Morse’s red curls.

Morse blinked up at him from a crosswords, then frowned. “The polite way would have been knocking.”

“I did knock, but you were… preoccupied.”

He really must have been, since he hadn’t even noticed his music stopping when Jakes had turned off the record player.

He frowned some more (and no, Jakes told himself, he _didn’t_ look cute) and replied, “I was thinking.”

“I can see that.”

He sighed. “Want a drink?”

That, Jakes thought, was probably a good idea.

After all, after a few strong sips, Morse might be more amenable to listen to his plan.

* * *

Granted, he should perhaps have paced himself a little better, too. “Look” Jakes said, trying to remember what point he was attempting to make. “I just mean… I mean… books.”

“Books?” Morse blinked at him. “Got books here” he slurred. “Lots o’ books. Never ‘nough though.”

“No, I meant – one book. One specific book.”

Morse looked at his shelves. “Which one?”

“Not one you got, angel”. Jakes closed his eyes. “I’m going to sober up or you won’t get it.”

Morse agreed to do the same and a few moments later, they were undrunk and, it had to be admitted, rather unhappy about it.

“Look, there’s a book. The Book. You know which one I’m talking about. Revelations. The one with the seven seals.”

Morse was staring at him.

“You know, someone opens it up and it all ends.”

“I know that”.

“See? So we find the book and we make certain it stays absolutely and firmly shut. And the Apocalypse can’t start.”

“But… I mean –“

“Come on, angel, you’ve been around for as long as I have. Don’t you want to at least try and save all of this?”

Morse closed his eyes and got up to walk to the window.

He stared out for a while then quietly admitted “I don’t want it to end.”

“That’s what I mean!”

Morse took a few deep breaths, even though he didn’t need to, and then turned around.

“Good. I will help you. But if we should ever find out we are acting against God’s will –“

“If the Almighty tells me personally, I will stop, of course “ Jakes lied. If it made Morse feel better…

He held out his hand.

Morse swallowed, then shook it.

They had only very rarely touched in their time one art together, and Jakes did his best to ignore the warmth seemingly spreading from his hand and into his arm right into his chest.

Well, then.

Part one of his plan – get Morse on his side – had been a success.

If only he’d been sure about parts two to ten.

**The Desert of Paran – 1575 BC**

This time, he didn’t have his wings out, but Jakes recognized the pretty angel he’d met in the Garden immediately anyway.

He walked up to him and said, “Hello again.”

Morse flinched, then turned to him. “Jakes?”

“Did you expect someone else?” he tried for levity but was discomfited by the expression on his face. “What’s going on?”

Morse pointed towards the horizon, where a caravan of people was slowly making their way through the desert. “It’s – Moses and his family, and those he leads – they’ll have to wander for forty years before they find their home.”

“What? Wasn’t he supposed to have like a column or something that brought them straight to where they needed to go?”

“His brother, Aaron – people were starting to complain that they didn’t know what God looked like, so he made a golden calf and they worshipped it and God didn’t like that.”

“Well, if someone tried to represent me and drew a _calf_ of all things…” he mused. “But still, for that they have to walk around for forty years? That sounds like something my lot came up with!”

Morse was fidgeting with his hands. “Yes, well –“

“I mean, who even allowed this to happen?”

“It’s not my job to question the decisions of my superiors” he said haughtily.

“If more people did, maybe those poor buggers wouldn’t be stuck with sand in their sandals for the next _four decades_!”

Morse looked so downcast that Jakes didn’t find it in his heart to continue. “You know what” he instead decided on “I know a nice place for a drink over in Mesopotamia…”

“Oh I can’t possibly…”

“Come on, it’s not like it’s forbidden to have a drink with a demon” he said, perhaps putting a little bit of a temptation in there, but really, they had known each other for years now, they certainly could share a drink and complain a bit about their bosses. That was what humans tended to do, anyway; and they had to blend in, hadn’t they?

I – Fine. But you’re paying.”

“Anything you want, angel” he replied, only realizing years later that he’d been completely honest at the moment.

**Oxford – 1965**

One of the reasons Jakes had rather Morse at his side than anyone else (apart from the obvious, never to be disclosed one) was that Morse was clever. Oh, many angels and even some demons were not exactly deficient in that regard, Jakes among them; but Morse was _clever_. He delighted in puzzles and riddles and solving them; and it was probably no surprise to find him the next morning already buried in the Bible.

Jakes himself hadn’t read it since his Fall. He knew well enough what it said (as did Morse) but if it helped… “No work today?”

“Made sure no one noticed” Morse mumbled. “Couldn’t afford the time.”

He nodded, looking around the flat. Morse hadn’t cleaned up from yesterday, but that was hardly a surprise; his place tended to be a mess at the best of times.

And so, he sighed and went to wash their glasses.

When he was done, he turned to find Morse looking at him. “What did you do that for?”

“You don’t just leave stuff lying around. It’s unsanitary, is what it is.”

Jakes had been incredibly relieved when the humans had invented plumbing. Much easier to wash, for one thing.

Morse was still looking at him with that undecipherable expression on his face Jakes had seen a few times before.

He cleared his throat. “And, anything?”

Morse shrugged. “There is a reference to four angels standing on the corners of the world…”

Yes, Jakes knew that; trouble was, the world was round. He didn’t say so, however; Morse probably needed to talk it through.

“And that means… well, it suggests the _middle_ of things, doesn’t it?”

“Something like that” he agreed. “But do you mean the core of the earth?”

“I don’t think so. No book would survive there.”

“But if it is the Book –“

“No, no that wouldn’t make any sense. Think of it; one has to reach it in order for them to open the book…”

“The Bodleian library?” Jakes suggested, only half-joking.

Morse glared at him. “You were the one who asked me to do something in the first place –“

“Nothing wrong with having a little laugh between friends, is there.”

Morse actually blushed. “We’re not friends.”

Despite the hurt he felt he chuckled. “If you say so.” He knew Morse didn’t even consider them friends, but why did he have to be so _stubborn_ about it? “So, any theories?”

Morse had always been very adept at understanding and decoding messages, for example when the Metatron delivered a word of God that was just a bunch of gibberish, if you asked Jakes.

That talent had backfired when it had somehow seeped into the humans’ consciousness. When, during the 1840s, Morse had miserably told him about the existence of the Morse code while they were having drinks, Jakes had laughed so hard he had almost fallen off his chair.

He didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just change his name. Jakes had, the one he’d worn as an angel being long forgotten, and he preferred it that way.

Instead, remembering that he had been one of the first to call out in joy after being created, he had based his name on the Enochian word for First Call – and of course he always had Peter to fall back on.

Morse hadn’t even managed to pick a normal first name. Somewhere around 1630, when a woman had been very insistent, he’d blurted out _Endeavour_ and ever since then went with a simple E. Morse whenever he could get away with it.

What a disaster the angel could be.

And yet… Jakes watched his corporation’s elegant fingers carefully go though the book.

Why did things have to be so complicated, anyway?

He sent the question up to God Herself.

And, as usual, received absolutely no answer.

He sometimes wondered if She answered when angels tried to reach her, but had never found it in himself to ask.

* * *

He was getting nowhere. He knew this book, had known it since the creation of earth, and he had nothing.

It also didn’t help that Jakes was pacing up and down, smoking cigarette after cigarette. At least he was making sure the smell didn’t reach him through a few small miracles.

He sighed. He should never have agreed; he knew the Divine Plan; it had to be fulfilled, even if it was a pity, what with earth –

The trouble was that he absolutely didn’t _want_ it to be destroyed. Good people like the Thursday deserved to live out their lives much like the generations that had come before them; and crossword puzzles hadn’t been around for long enough.

And then there was the music. It was an unfortunate fact that most musicians had ended up going to Hell, which meant if Heaven won (they would, of course, he thought guiltily) then he’d never hear it again, just like he’d never do another crosswords puzzle, or have a stiff drink with Jakes –

And of course Jakes would be vanquished, so he wouldn’t see him again, _ever_.

It shouldn’t have troubled him as much as it did. He was an angel; they were on opposite sides; they were – well, hereditary enemies, he supposed.

The trouble was that an enemy one kept meeting could very easily turn into something like a friend.

Not that he’d ever admit that. Jakes would be destroyed by Hell if they found out, and Morse himself wasn’t looking forward to being reprimanded yet again if Heaven ever found out. Thank God most angels weren’t fond of earth; he’d in fact seen much more of Jakes than he had his own kind in the last 6000 years.

* * *

“You know what?” Jakes suddenly asked. “I need to report downstairs anyway; might as well try and find out what I can.”

“But if they figured out –“

“Relax, none of them have any imagination to speak of. No demon would ever suspect one of us from wanting to stop the Apocalypse.”

Morse would have liked to say that at least angels had something like imagination, but letting his eyes wander over his collection of books and LPs, he knew that humans possessed more of that quality than he could ever dream of.

* * *

Morse was busy pursuing inquiries, DI Fred Thursday would have answered to anyone who’d asked, although he was rather unaware that he believed this due to a miracle on the angel’s part.

Nonetheless, he was preoccupied with Morse. He was worried for the lad, lately. He seemed to get thinner every day, and he seemed rather harassed and haggard.

Win had tried to get him to have dinner with them several times, but he had always declined, despite Fred thinking that there’d been something like longing in his eyes.

It was as contradictory as the man himself.

He sighed to himself and concentrated back on the file in front of him.

* * *

There had to be some sign of where the book was. There _had_ to be.

That said, the Bible, as lonely as it was, had been written by men, and they hadn’t got everything right.

For example, despite all the allusions to a lamb, Morse highly doubted that it would indeed be Jesus Christ who would open the book. The poor man had been through enough never to wish to come back down to earth.

He remembered the crucifixion and shuddered. All that blood… if Jakes hadn’t been around to prop him up, he’d have passed out.

And there would be so much more blood soon, when angels and demon fought.

Morse had never fought, not even in that first war. He couldn’t bring himself to stand against his brethren, even if they had sinned against Herself; and so he’d once more managed to be a messenger instead.

Which was probably another reason that bloody Morse code had ever been conceived. He’d never forget Jakes’ face when he told him. He’d regretted doing so instantly.

Even if the demon always looked his most captivating when he was smiling or laughing.

Morse frowned and told himself that he shouldn’t find a demon captivating. As usual, it didn’t really work.

**Jericho – 1536 BC**

The third time he saw the angel in obvious distress, Jakes decided that he didn’t much care for this expression.

It really was a pity; he’d got him to smile, that time in Mesopotamia when they’d had drinks, and it had been quite the sight.

But as it happened, Morse was standing a little outside Jericho, facing the city with his eyes closed, and looking profoundly miserable.

There were sounds coming from the city, sounds Jakes had come to recognize and dread while watching humanity (and occasionally tempting them to do bad deeds).

Shouts; cries; pleas for mercy; the clanging of weapons; the cackling of newly-sprung flames.

Small wonder that Morse looked like that.

Jakes hadn’t really kept up with the politics of the day, so he had no idea what was going on, and used that as an open. “What’s that, then?”

Morse opened his eyes and looked at him. “Jakes.”

He nodded towards Jericho. “What’s going on?”

He half-expected Morse to admonish him, but instead, he courtly said, “The Israelites are going to conquer Canaan”, turning back towards the city.

Jakes’ heart sank. One of Heaven’s, then, and they were always worse than when his side got involved. All that righteousness… “So isn’t it kind of idiotic to wreck the place like this?”

“It is as Heaven decried” Morse said flatly. “Every man, woman and child, with the exception of one woman, shall be slain.”

“Seems a shame, though” Jakes replied, turning his head just for a moment to study Jericho as well. “Can’t imagine all of them deserve this.”

Morse didn’t answer, and looking back at the spot where the angel had stood just a few moments ago, it became rather clear why.

He was speeding towards the town.

Jakes cursed. Just like one of Heaven’s, running right at the hopeless cases.

He could have left and allowed the idiot to be discorporated, of course.

He thought about it for a second, then started after him.

The city was in absolute chaos, bodies and soldiers everywhere, and Jakes did his best to ignore the cruelties going on as he tried to find Morse.

He finally spotted him influencing a soldier to spare and adopt a little girl whose family had been slaughtered into _his_ family. He supposed it was better than letting her get murdered or starve.

“Hey” he said, touching his elbow as Morse watched him carry her away. “They’re about finished here. There’s nothing we can do”.

Not to mention, if Heaven found them here, they’d be in rather big trouble.

“I –“ Morse looked at him and swallow. “I just couldn’t let her be killed. I couldn’t.”

“I understand” he answered reassuringly. “I do.” And he truly did; personally, he’d always been rather opposed to violence against kids. It seemed so terribly unfair.

Not that he’d ever voiced his thoughts. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing a demon was supposed to believe.

“Come on” he tried again. “We need to get out of –“

It was at this moment that, due to, he would later come to realize, Morse’s usual luck, the wall collapsed on top of them.

* * *

His head hurt. He supposed that was a good thing; it meant he hadn’t been discorporated, for one thing.

Morse opened his eyes and immediately regretted it when the light stabbed into his skull.

He groaned, then realized he was lying on a bed in a room he had never seen before.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.”

* * *

Jakes looked at Morse and couldn’t help shaking his head.

He was blinking up confusedly at him. “What is this place?”

“Mine” he said simply.

“You have a place?”

“Yes. You don’t?”

When Morse didn’t answer, he sighed. “How do you fit in, then?”

The angel really was a bit of a disaster.

“I – spent most of my time in towns anyway.”

“So why don’t you get a hut like this?” he suggested.

At the very least, it would give the angel a base where Jakes could find him if he wanted to. Plus, having a home would probably make it less likely that the bloody idiot would get himself discorporated by walking through the wrong parts of town at night.

He really was a bit of a disaster, but damn him if Jakes didn’t like him that way.

“I might…” he said, unsure. “What happened?”

He sighed again. “A wall collapsed, since those soldiers were very to tearing the entire place down. Had to miracle us to safety, but it had already knocked you out.”

“Oh”. He was silent for a moment then said, “Thank you.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Just didn’t want to explain what I was doing in bloody _Jericho_ with an unconscious angel.”

“You could have told them you knocked me out” he pointed out, correctly, and Jakes decided that he should better change the subject, and quickly, since it was only too obvious why that would indeed have been a good idea.

It might even have gotten him a commendation.

“Whatever. Come on, I need a drink.”

**Oxford – 1965**

The following weekend, Jakes was strolling towards Hinksey Park, one of their meeting spots, feeling rather put out.

He had known that asking questions wasn’t encouraged in Hell – rather ironic, since it was what had gotten him Fallen in the first place – but still, the simple _Everything is going according to plan and you shouldn’t wonder about such things_ message he had continuously received had been nothing short of discouraging.

It also didn’t help that he completely and utterly despised Hell, its packed corridors, the dirt everywhere, the impossibility to maintain a pristine appearance.

It always reminded him of immediately after the Fall, when some of the more powerful demons had riled up “volunteers”– Jakes among them – and had had their “fun” with them. He shuddered just being reminded of it.

And they still didn’t know where the bloody book was. They were no closer to saving earth than they had been when he had convinced Morse to do something a week ago.

It was all so frustrating.

At least Morse was already waiting for him o their usual bench, his hair almost glowing in the sunlight, imitating a halo. The sight simply never failed to raise Jakes’ spirits.

“Hello” he greeted him, sitting down. “Have you got anything?”

But the angel shook his head, looking apologetic.

Jakes sighed. “I haven’t got anything either.”

“So the other demons weren’t cooperative?” Morse asked as they got up and began to walk around. There was a hint of mockery in his voice, but Jakes wasn’t about to mention it.

“No. And now that we know this –“

“Hullo, Morse.”

When Jakes had learned that Morse had decided to become a detective, he had naturally checked out his place of work, and so he remembered the grey-haired man with the pipe.

He correctly assumed the woman on his arm to be his wife.

“Sir. Mrs. Thursday” Morse said, his eyes wandering between them and Jakes.

He then apparently came to the conclusion that it would seem strange not to introduce them. “This is Peter Jakes…” he trailed off.

When it became clear he wouldn’t continue, Jakes quickly jumped in. “A friend.”

He shook hands with the Inspector and nodded Mrs. Thursday.

“We decided to take a stroll since it’s so nice out.”

“Same here” Jakes supplied. Morse had apparently decided that it was enough that he’d introduced them.

“Well then Morse” the inspector, who had obviously realized that the angel was feeling uncomfortable, said, “See you on Monday.”

“Yes, sir. Good day.”

And he watched them leave with an expression on his face that clearly told Jakes he was thinking of the miracle he’d used to heal the Old Man, as he’d told him one day he was called at the station.

* * *

As soon as they were out of earshot, Win began, “So that’s why he’s been so skittish lately! The poor dears, not being able to be open about it…”

“You don’t think…” Fred replied, his mind going back over their accidental meeting and the posh-looking fellow who’d been with Morse.

“Oh of course; it’s obvious. Have you seen the way they look at one another, and how worried Morse was to introduce us? We really should let him know there’s nothing to fear; we could have him and his young man over for dinner someday. Maybe tomorrow week.”

“Win” he tried, rather feebly, to object, “We’re police, and technically it’s il-“

“ _Fred Thursday_.”

That ended that discussion.

* * *

“So that’s your boss, is it?” Jakes asked as if he didn’t know, but lying was part of his job description. “Looks… nice. The wife, too.”

“They are both very friendly” he said quietly.

“He was the one you miracled alright, right? The one with the bullet in his chest?”

Morse hesitated for a moment before answering, “The doctor had given him three weeks. No one was supposed to know, but I overheard them talking on the phone… I couldn’t bear the thought that he’d just choke on his own blood.”

“You like them” he realized. Jakes had always tried – and occasionally failed – to avoid getting close to humans, so he kind of got it.

“Yes. I do.” He bit his lip. “Not that it matters. All of this will be over in less than three months.”

“Hey”. He reached out and laid a hand on his forearm; to his pleasant surprise, Morse didn’t flinch away. “We’re working on it.”

“And getting nowhere”.

“Yeah, well… we have only just started. There has to be a way out of this, and if it’s going to involve me running around naked shouting abuse at the skies, so be it.”

Morse’s lips twitched, then suddenly he said, “You realize they thought we were together?”

“What?”

“Inspector and Mrs. Thursday. Oh, the feelings of love and affection coming from her were very clear. She thought we’re together.”

Jakes’ mind went blank. Part of him wanted to say something like _Wow wouldn’t that be weird_ , or, _Did you ever think of it_ , or worst of all, _What if I were still an angel, would you like me then_ , but he somehow managed not to say a single one of those things.

Maybe God hadn’t completely forsaken him after all.

“Yes, well…”

“I know Inspector Thursday has been worrying about me” he shrugged, “And this is as good an excuse as any.”

Of course, he thought bitterly, an excuse, a lie, nothing to be taken seriously. He went for a cigarette to hide his hurt feelings.

Hurt feelings being, of course, he reminded himself, a good thing. He was _supposed_ to hurt other’s feelings.

But did that count for his own too? God, he surely hoped not. He wanted to feel good – certainly, after milliner of being damned, he had deserved that, especially since it certainly looked like everything would go up in a puddle of burning goo soon enough?

He suddenly wondered if they could just leave. After all, the angels and demons would be rather preoccupied, wouldn’t they? Maybe they could slip away, and then it would just be him, Morse and the universe to explore…

It was a nice concept, but it would never come to pass. Morse loved earth too much; and even if he hadn’t, he would certainly not run away with _Jakes_ , of all people.

Maybe another angel, but certainly not a demon…

“What are you thinking about?” he suddenly demanded and Jakes took a deep drag before answering.

“Just everything that’s going on, angel. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

A pause.

Then, “Do you really think so?”

Now he’d lost him. “Think what?”

“That my corporation is pretty?”

He couldn’t help it; he took him in once more – his slender frame, the red-goldish curls he wished he could run his fingers through just once before it ended, those eyes, the colour of which he had never been completely able to ascertain – and did his best to sound as calm as he could as he replied, “I guess so.”

“Oh.”

A slightly awkward pause followed.

Jakes was wondering if he could discorporate if he tried hard enough when Morse announced, “I like your eyes.”

“What!?”

Since he had originally been supposed to be the Serpent’s helper, he too had eyes that looked rather remarkably like those of a snake; thankfully, humans had never been the most perceptive bunch and tended to overlook them. After all, it was just reality; who had the time to care about that?

“I like your eyes” Morse repeated and Jakes doubled down on his efforts, but sadly, his body made no signs of spontaneously combusting. “I think they’re... special.”

“The Spirent has the same ones” he shrugged.

“No they don’t. They’re yours, and yours alone.”

That sounded like… that almost sounded like…

 _No. Stop it. That way lies madness._ “Thanks?”

Morse nodded, as if that was an adequate answer. “We’ll have to keep in close contact if we want to succeed …”

Despite his initial despair, his encounter with the Thursdays seemed to have reminded him what was at stake.

Jakes would have welcome this development, only he still couldn’t get that comment about his eyes out of his mind, and so soon bid him farewell.

* * *

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Morse chided himself as he was walking back to his flat. _I should never have told him that I like his eyes. No; I should never have asked whether he really thinks I’m pretty. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

The truth – a truth he had only admitted to himself after several millennia – was that he had been fascinated by Jakes’ eyes right from the beginning. Yes, the pupils were slit – like a snake’s – but what did that matter? Jakes’ eyes were so expressive, so fascinating. The things he had read in them over the years…

He sighed. If only he were a better angel. He would never have agreed to the Arrangement, then…

But it had seemed reasonable at the time, hadn’t it? Why waste time when either of them could perform both a miracle and a temptation and therefore save one of them the trip?

He was just making excuses, and he knew it. The big thing was naturally that he had agreed to try and thwart the Apocalypse.

It didn’t help his dilemma in the slightest that, when he unlocked his door, he found Gabriel waiting for him.

“Morse.”

“Gabriel”. He waited for him to say something, but he didn’t, so eventually he quietly said, “It’s been a while…”

“Not that long, really. I assume you received my note last year?”

He flinched but dutifully replied, “I got carried away. I have been more careful since then.”

“Oh, trust me, it has been noticed.”

It should have been a compliment, but certainly didn’t feel like one. Healing DI Thursday had felt right; he was a good man who loved his family, even if he sometimes lost his temper.

And so many times in his existence, Morse had been tempted (ironically not by Jakes – that had been his own making) to just ignore his orders and do more. Occasionally, he had given in. Heaven had – thank God – not always found out, but Jakes had been right – someone coughing up a bullet and never having problems again after that was simply a little too unbelievable.

“Anyway, as you know, the Apocalypse is coming close.”

“Yes” he replied miserably. “I am aware.”

“Well, and since you’re our local guy…”

“What?” he blinked.

“Oh yes, it was always planned to start here, in Oxford.”

And to think Morse had always believed it would be the Middle East.

“So what do you expect me to do`?”

“Just keep an eye on things. We don’t want the other side to find a way to ruin the Plan, do we?”

If so, Morse would have gladly taken a step back and let the demons do their thing, but sadly, due to Jakes, he was only too aware that this was the last thing they wanted.

Gabriel was obviously waiting for an answer so he forced out, “No, sir.”

“Excellent”. He lowered his voice. “I don’t have to tell you, Morse, that this is vastly important, and that there were some who felt you should be reassigned so a more… conventional angel could take your place.”

He could feel his heart’s corporation start to beat faster. Leave Oxford? He’d been here for over two decades, now. It felt more like home to him than Heaven ever had.

And, of course, Jakes was here too.

“I – I am thankful this hasn’t been the case, sir. I am looking forward to the Rapture.”

He was lying through his teeth, as he was well aware, and felt incredibly guilty about it, but She herself probably didn’t know what Gabriel would do to him if he didn’t.

 _Please, God, I am just trying to save this place. Jakes is right. You_ have _to love it, you have to love_ them _, haven’t you? And we’re beings of love. We are supposed to revere love, not let so many who do die horribly._

“Excellent”. Gabriel punched his shoulder with that fake camaraderie Morse had always despised. Jakes and he rarely touched in contrast.

Looking at Gabriel, he suddenly found himself desperately missing the demon, craving his presence, even though they had only just separated.

Good God, he was a pathetic excise for an angel. He had no idea why he had not fallen yet.

As Gabriel’s violet eyes studied him, he idly wondered if Jakes could get him some form of special treatment in Hell for when they were sure to struck him down eventually, especially if they succeeded…

“Good, then. I expect your reports.”

Reports that, as opposed to Jakes’ to his superiors, at least usually told the truth.

Just not the full truth.

It was hardly his fault that he’d seen a family with threadbare clothes the other day and made certain they found the wallet of a rich man that had been lost a few hours ago and who was sure to show himself generous…

He nodded and Gabriel, much to his relief, left.

He sighed and thank back in front of the Bible.

The book was in Oxford, or would come to Oxford. That was something.

And there had to be other answers. There had to be.

* * *

Milly loved books, she always had, even when she’d been too small to read them herself.

Right now, since Dad had decided to ground her, they were once more her solace; and even she would have admitted that, misguided as her parents may sometimes have been, they had never tried to take her books from her.

Her books.

In truth, Milly secretly yearned for something no one else on the planet had – her own book, her very special book, a book that had only ever been intended for her and no one else.

She didn’t know how soon her wish would come true.

Jakes paced up and done his flat, smoking cigarette after cigarette, picked the phone up only to put it down again. He knew from long experience that Morse grew wary if he showed up too often.

Despite them knowing each other since the beginning.

He sighed. Why, of all people, did it have to be an angel? Was that part of his punishment as one of the damned? But he couldn’t imagine that; no other demon, as far as he knew, dared lo…

And Mrs. Thursday had thought they were together.

He took another deep drag.

What a mess it all was. 

**The United Kingdom of Israel – 1018 BC**

Morse breathed a deep breath of relief as he watched the real mother take the child away.

“Nicely done”.

Jakes had come in to him without him even being aware of it. Normally he’d have felt it, but he had been preoccupied.

“It was King Solomon who did the right thing.”

“Yes, but you inspired him, didn’t you? I could feel your blessing a mile away.”

He’d probably used more of his powers than he had needed, but he’d had to make absolutely sure.

“I was worried for the child.”

“I am not surprised.”

He ignored Jakes’ slightly sarcastic undertone. He, too, remembered Jericho very well indeed.

“Why are you here, anyway?”

“Couple of temptations, nothing big. Surprised the let you have this, to be honest.”

He wasn’t being offensive; Morse himself had been rather surprised Gabriel had made him responsible for such a miracle as well. But then he’d developed a theory…

“I think” he said, sighing, “They rather have me down here than up there.”

What troubled him was that he was starting to realize that he infinitely preferred earth to the sterility and emptiness of Heaven as well.

“Yes, well, it’s more fun down here anyway. Have you ever inhaled smoke?”

“What? No: Why should I?”

“Like I said, it’s fun.”

Morse couldn’t for the life of him understand what was supposed to be fun about that.

But then, he didn’t understand many things. For example, why Jakes kept showing up wherever he went, or why he didn’t mind in the least.

And yet he couldn’t deny that he was much better company than many of the other angels.

It was a terribly blasphemous thought, but what could he do?

“Well, your job here is done. So what now?”

Morse looked at Jakes and debated whether to tell him the truth or not, but then, he really isn’t think he could get up to any mischief if he did… “I was about to head for the nayyot”.

“The nayyot?” Jakes frowned. “But all they do there is teach boys how to play music.”

He smiled a happy smile. “Exactly.”

* * *

Jakes didn’t care much for music, never had, which was rather ironic because most excellent musicians eventually made their way to Hell. Probably because creative minds could think up some pretty interesting sins.

He was, however, currently very much changing his opinion.

Well, maybe not music as a whole – it sounded pleasant enough, but that wasn’t – what he meant to say was – 

He’d never seen Morse so happy, so _at peace_ before, and it was absolutely captivating. He was listening to music with his eyes closed, a shy, content smile on his face; the sunlight set his golden hair ablaze…

All in all, Jakes ways rather glad that he wasn’t required to speak at the moment.

When he realized the angel was opening his eyes, he quickly schooled his expression.

“And that’s not all” he told him happily. “Thy are planning on expanding their school – to teach even more people, and better!”

Well, if it made him look like that more often, Jakes was ready to become a teacher himself. “Sounds good”.

Morse nodded enthusiastically. “Humans are so clever. They have actually developed a system of writing music down…”

Jakes let him prattle on, clearly enjoying himself.

Huh. Music. Who would have thought. Then again, he had no idea if Morse was the sort of angel to burst into hymns; there had been so many of them before the Fall that they hadn’t met then.

Just as well, really. He wouldn’t have liked Morse to remember who he used to be, instead of focusing what he was now.

And so _he_ focused on Morse being relaxed for once.

**Oxford – 1965**

After Win had pointed out to him that Morse and the fellow they had seen him with – Peter Jakes, he remembered – were an item, he found himself looking out for him even more than before. He had known men like – like that – before, had even served with them in the war, and anyway, had never understood why people should be forbidden from loving on another. As long as both of them wanted it, he had no problem with it.

But there were many who _had_ , and Morse would have been a fool to ignore that. Hence the distance between the two, even if they probably touched quite a bit when they were alone, since Morse had always struck him as touch-starved.

Really, Fred wouldn’t have assumed such a fellow to be his type, not even if he’d actually been a woman, but what did he know? He just wished – if Win had been right – that there was a way to let him know that it was alright, that he wasn’t going to judge him for who he was together with.

“Sir?”

He raised his head. Morse stood at his door.

“Ah. Morse. Do come in. Close the door, would you?”

* * *

By now, he knew DI Thursday well enough to realize he wanted to talk – and didn’t wish anyone else to hear him. Now, remembering hat he had felt from Mrs. Thursday, it wasn’t difficult to guess what he wanted to talk about.

At least Morse could readily assure him that he and Jakes had too little in common (because it was true, he told himself, because it was true).

“Say, Morse, the other day, when our Win and I met you at the Park.”

“Yes, sir?”

“That fellow you were with – Peter Jakes… new friend, is he?”

He had to smile against his will. “No, sir. Rather an old one.” With a stroke of genius – they had, after all, only just agreed to thwart the Apocalypse together – he added “We recently reconnected.”

“I see”.

Morse only then realized how DI Thursday would understand that answer, but it wasn’t like he could take it back. Humans had a habit of jumping to conclusions when it came to things like this.

“And while you’re… reconnecting… I do hope you’re being… careful?”

He blinked; he hadn’t expected that. Granted, he knew that DI Thursday was a decent man; he always had, that was why he’d miracle him well in the first place. But this?

“We have to be” he answered truthfully, well aware that he was still lying, if only by omission. And yet, the situation was almost too perfect. After all, being in love with a man (or, well, someone who looked male as per human standards; he’d never really grasped the necessity of sex or gender, and he rather suspected Jakes of the same; nevertheless they both usually represented as male because it was easier) in a society where such things were seen as an abomination would be a considerable cause of stress.

“Well, I guess you’d have to be.”

God, how right he was.

“I just want to say… look, lad, it’s alright. I mean, not that it’s – that you can’t – but there’s nothing to fear from me. Or Mrs. Thursday.”

He’d known that – would have known that, at least, if he had at any point considered ever having such a conversation with the inspector. “Thank you, sir.”

He nodded. “Off you go, then.”

He called him back when he’d reached the door, however. “Oh, and Morse… Mrs. Thursday said to invite you both to dinner next Sunday.”

Now this – this was as new as it was wholly unexpected. He’d never been invited to a human dinner all his life, didn’t care much for eating, in fact – which was probably why his corporation looked as thin as it did. Jakes did partake in meals occasionally, and now and then dragged Morse with him, but the thought of bringing him to the Thursdays…

There was nothing he could do about it right now, though, and so he forced out “Thank you, sir” and left.

Naturally, he went on to call Jakes.

* * *

Jakes had long since got used to the fact that it was normally him who called and went to see Morse and not the other way around. True, sometimes he still wondered if this was simply because Morse didn’t want him to be around and was just too polite to say so, but mostly, he dealt with it.

So for Morse to call him with panic in his voice immediately sat the alarm bells ringing.

He’d actually been toying with the idea of bringing down the phone network for a few hours and was immensely glad he hadn’t gone through with it when he heard Morse exclaim “Jakes.”

“Morse? What’s happened?” Thinking nothing less than Heaven had figured out what they were up to, he didn’t leave him time to answer but continued, “Where are you? I am coming, don’t worry –“

“InspectorAndMrsThursdayHaveInvitedUsToDinnernextSunday” he rushed out, and Jakes needed a moment to understand.

Then, he asked flatly, “What?”

“I – I told you – she thought we were together, and apparently she convinced Inspector Thursday of it, because he told me to be careful, and then he said they would have us over for dinner…”

Jakes had never before been invited to dinner by humans. Oh, sure, he’d dragged Morse out plenty of times and had occasionally persuaded him to pay, but that was hardly the same.

“Well” he said, “Where do they live, then?”

“I – what?”

“Or do you want to meet up at one of our places and go there together, then?”

“You want to go!?”

Morse sounded more incredulous than Jakes would have liked. “I don’t see why not. Would be impolite not to, would it.”

He also couldn’t deny that he was curious. Morse was very fond of the Thursdays (so much so that, if he hadn’t known better by now, he might have been a little jealous) and, apart from his sympathy for humans, he had been wondering why for a while now.

“I – I see.” A paise. Then he added quietly “They think we’re… lovers though.”

 _Damn him_ for using that word. Jakes felt his entire corporation’s temperature rise. Why couldn’t he have said a couple or partners? Why did he have to use the word _lovers_? And why would he now be the one who had to deal with Morse calling them such when it could never be? “Yes, doesn’t mean we have to hold hands or something like that.”

_Unless you want to. And unless you want me to take you out, wine and dine you, follow you home, maybe kiss you in the moonlight like I have seen humans do…_

“Jakes?”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“I said” now Morse sounded rather impatient “That I could come by your place around half-sevenish. We can then proceed to the Thursdays.”

“Sounds good” he said, his heart beating wildly.

They hardly ever met by appointment to eat like that.

 _It’s not a date_ , you idiot, he scolded himself after they had hung up. _The Thursdays are trying to be nice and he’s too weak to say no, that’s all._

* * *

One other fruitless week later, they were silently on their way to the Thursdays. Morse had even taken the trouble of pressing his shirt and trying to tame his hair (more or less successfully) and Jakes had to be careful not to stare too much.

But God, he looked good.

In one hand, Morse was clutching a bottle of wine, in the other a bunch of flowers. When Jakes had stared at the things, he’d mumbled something about it being “the polite thing to do” and that had been it.

The house looked cosy enough; as a matter of fact, in a moment of madness, Jakes asked himself what would happen if he got one himself and asked Morse to move in with him.

He would decline, of course. It was out of the question. Not to mention that actually seeing him every day without being able to reach out and touch him would probably lead to Jakes’ discorporation sooner rather than later.

“Well then” he finally said, “are we going to knock or just stand there all night?”

Morse glared at him but moved to do just that before remembering that he had his hands full. Jakes surpassed a smile and did it for him.

Mrs. Thursday opened up. “Hello, dears. Punctual to the minute. Oh, Morse, you really shouldn’t have, those are beautiful, come in, come in, dinner’s about done…”

Morse didn’t quite know where to look; small wonder; this, Jakes supposed, was what maternal care must feel like, and neither of them had ever had a mother before.

Still, it was clearly easiest to obey and so they did just that.

The others were already sitting at the set table. Jakes was quickly introduced to the Thursday children.

“Oh my, two gentleman callers at once! Whatever is a girl to do?”

Miss Thursday’s – _call her Joan, dear_ – eyes were sparkling in a way that suggested they had told them the truth, or whatever they perceived as the truth.

“Well, sis, you have to choose. You can’t just keep every man in Oxford for yourself.”

She boxed her brother on the shoulder. “Come on, you know I’m right.”

Right. Bantering. Siblings did that, as far as Jakes knew.

Morse, whether he was aware of it or not, had moved slightly towards him, and something in what was left of his Grace sang out.

Mrs. Thursday smiled at them, and he could feel himself blush. “Fred tells me you’re old friends and recently… reconnected?”

“Oh yes” Jakes tried to improvise, since he knew from experience that Morse couldn’t to save his life (which was why he had done it. On more than one occasion). “You see, Mrs. Thursday –“

“Win, dear.”

“Win – I recently moved back to Oxford. I had no idea Morse was living here, but we met on the street.”

Joan sighed in what he assumed was an appreciation of romantic fate.

“And then we had dinner and… you know…” he shrugged. “Guess old friendships never die.”

He was very very aware of what the Thursdays considered this old friendship to be; but Morse hadn’t moved away. On the contrary, if anything, he was sitting closer to him then ever. That had to count for something, right?

Dear God, if he hadn’t already been a demon, he would’ve thought he’d go straight to Hell for this.

“Anyway” Sam Thursday then thankfully began, “What do you think of United’s chances in the cup?”

Now, that was all too easy. Jakes, as opposed to Morse, had kept an eye on sports over the years; he wasn’t prepared to swear that his counterpart even knew the difference between British and American Football.

And so, he mostly talked to Sam, while Mrs. Thursday and Joan were quizzing Morse and DI Thursday occasionally joined one or the other conversation.

All in all, it was a surprisingly… pleasant evening. Yes, as always when it came to humans, they couldn’t be entirely honest (apart from the fact that the entire invitation was based on false premises) but still. The Thursdays certainly were a nice enough bunch, much more fun to talk to than most humans, and Jakes was slowly coming to understand why they meant so much to Morse.

They definitely liked him a lot, and what was much more surprising, they quickly seemed to decide that they liked Jakes as well. While he was aware that by human standards, his corporation was considered handsome enough, few people had ever bothered to get to know him well enough to, for example, want to mother him, as Mrs. Thursday seemed to have decided on the moment he stepped over her doorstep; while DI Thursday seemed to be a bit more wary of him, but since this seemed to stem out of concern for and care about Morse, it was downright… endearing. Yes, humans could be so endearing with their worries and cares; it wasn’t Jakes fault that it was so. Small wonder he had always preferred them to his own kind as well to the angels.

Well, except for one.

He glanced at Morse, who at this point had managed to relax.

Then he made the mistake of catching Joan’s eyes; she winked at him.

And his corporation was blushing again.

After dinner, a bit of shuffling went down. Jakes himself, rather impressed, wouldn’t have been able to say how they di it, but somehow, Morse was detained by the others and he ended up accepting a glass of brandy from DI Thursday in the living room before the angel could join them.

Thursday took a sip of his own drink, then studied Jakes. He had the definite feeling that he was being seized up, but as opposed to when other occult forces did it, he didn’t feel all too worried about it.

That, however, was bound to change, for suddenly the inspector began to speak.

“So. You just moved to Oxford. Do you intent to stay?”

“If all goes to plan, yes.”

That at least wasn’t a lie. If things didn’t go according to plan, there would be no Oxford he could be staying in.

“I see.” DI Thursday took another sip, although Peter felt it was more for show than anything else. “Now, Peter – may I say Peter?”

He nodded.

“I’ve grown mighty fond of Morse over the past few years – we all have. I’m certain you noticed that. Not exactly deficient, are you?”

He shook his head. Indeed, only a stupid sod could have overlooked how much the Thursdays liked Morse.

“So, I would be rather upset if he got hurt in any way, shape or form. You can ask Win – I have a bit of a temper.”

If a bit of a temper included regularly punching suspects in the face, Jakes thought, but according to Morse, they usually deserved it. To be honest, the thought of a human trying to beat up a demon was quite amusing, but he also knew that Morse would be upset if he upset Thursday so he replied, “I would be very angry too if Morse were to get hurt, sir.”

He studied him again, then apparently satisfied, nodded. “Good. Just wanted to make that clear.”

And they sipped their drinks in silence.

Morse should probably have expected something like this, but Joan and Sam were adamant that he tell them about their cases, and Mrs. Thursday – Win – was turning a blind eye.

“But you found the girl in time, right?”

He nodded miserably, not caring much to remember Mason Gull and his tricks.

There was a man who was destined for Hell, and no mistake.

And then Mrs. – Win changed everything.

“Poor little lamb.”

His blood, as the mortals said, ran cold.

* * *

When Morse finally joined them, Jakes knew immediately that something had happened. There was a thoughtful expression on his face he had seen more often than he could count.

Thursday seemed pleased when Morse sat down next to Jakes, though.

They mostly made small talk until they left once the others joined them as well, although he had to lie a bit when it came to his work – for the simple reason that he didn’t. At least he had fun, although he could feel Morse cringe next to him.

“Well, in America, I mostly worked on farms.”

“You used to be a cowboy?” Sam asked.

He nodded. “And then...”

Only he heard Morse’s resigned sigh.

* * *

“What is it?” he asked as soon as they had bid the Thursdays goodbye.

“I – I had an idea. You see, I was telling Joan and Sam about the Mason Gull case, where –“

“I know” he interrupted him. “Told me about it a couple of weeks afterwards when I asked why you didn’t want to try out that new restaurant three stories up.”

He still didn’t quite understand why Morse hadn’t just miracled himself onto the roof, but the idiot probably hadn’t thought about it in the heat of the moment.

“And Win” Peter wondered if he noticed that it was the first time he had ever called her “Win” instead of Mrs. Thursday when talking to someone else. “She said something about Debbie Snow.”

The girl he had saved, like back in Jericho. He nodded.

“She called her a poor lamb. And that made me think…” He paused for a moment before saying, “The lamb, opening the book – it could very well be a child.”

**Athens – 403 BC**

He should have known that this was where he would find the angel. Jakes had known Morse was in Athens, of course, had felt it the second he set foot into the city, but he hadn’t been certain where to look for him.

And now this. There he was, sitting amongst humans, listening to whatever boring things some old man with a white beard had to say.

Jakes idled up to him. “Hello there.”

He raised his head and whispered, “hush.”

“Come on. It’s not like there are not a million people like him running around holding lectures. This is Greece we’re talking about.”

“This is different” he insisted.

“How so?”

“Socrates is a genius!”

That may have been true, but he was still human, which meant that Morse knew more than he ever would, and yet he was sitting there, listening as if he’d never heard anything more fascinating in his life.

Jakes could have left, of course, but God only knew when he’d have the chance to see Morse again then, and so he sat down next to him.

The angel threw him a curious glance but said nothing.

He did his bet to be interested, but wasn’t quite successful.

“Strong minds discuss ideas, average minds discuss events, weak minds discuss people… Education is the kindling of a flame, not the filling of a vessel… Be slow to fall into friendship, but when you are in, continue firm and constant.”

Blab la bla. Well, except maybe for that last one…

He somehow found himself relaxing in the sun, only for him to blink his eyes and find it was night time.

And that he had apparently been leaning on Morse as he had been…

Well, Jakes had always enjoyed sleeping. He probably should have paid attention and not dozed off on the angel, though.

He sat up straight and cleared his throat. “Sorry about that. Should’ve woken me up, angel.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “You looked… relaxed.”

He blinked. That didn’t make any sense. Why would he care about that? “Thank you?”

Morse nodded as they got up.

“So… good lecture? From that Socrates fellow?”

His face lit up the way it always did when he got to talk about something he cared for. “It was very interesting!” He hesitated. “I don’t think he’s very happy in his homelife, though. I think his wife is… is…”

“Querulous`” he supplied him with.

He nodded. “I think so.” He looked away, then muttered. “Maybe I might go there, bless them.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t have an order to, though.”

That was just like Morse – a slight hint at rebellion that was immediately followed by regret.

“Yeah, well…” he vaguely recalled the guy saying something like bad wives making good philosophers out of their husbands and wondered if he could sell a temptation to make her nicer as a good job to Hell. “I’d say I owe you a drink. Come on.”

As always, Morse didn’t try to deny himself too long.

**Oxford – 1965**

Jakes didn’t give Morse time to cool off and maybe start missing him as he usually had.

No, the very next morning, he stood in front of his flat.

Morse opened the door to him and frowned. “I need to pick up DI Thursday.”

“Use a miracle. We need to talk.”

Morse frowned some more but snapped his fingers. At least he’d complied without arguing.

“So, a child is supposed to open the book and start the Apocalypse. The question is, how do we find the child?”

Morse looked at him, then helplessly shrugged.

“Come on, there has to be something we can do.”

“I can’t see how.”

“Well, let’s start with the obvious. Would the child be in any way… special?”

Wring choice of words. Morse drew himself up to his corporation’s full height (which admittedly wasn’t that impressive) and declared “All children are special, just as all men are special. They were made in Her image, and…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, spare me the sermon; you know I don’t go to church. The question is how to find the child. So, I repeat my question. Any angel or demon parts about them?”

Morse considered the question then shook his head. “No. I would have heard about that; at least I am sure of that.”

Well, it was something, but Peter wondered if it wouldn’t have made things easier. But at least they wouldn’t have to care about random power surges or something like that.

“It’s here” Morse suddenly rushed out. “I know that. They’re in Oxford.”

“How do you know that?”

He told him about Gabriel’s visit.

Jakes trepid not to care about the fact that there had been a time – there had been millennia – where Morse wouldn’t have told him. It didn’t quite work, but he schooled his features so Morse wouldn’t see how much it meant to him. “Bastard.”

Another helpless shrug. Alright, he probably wasn’t ready to go so far.

“So they want you to sit back and watch the world burn, huh.”

“That’s the point” he reminded him.

“Of course. Just end the world so you can have an angel-demon war all over again” he said bitterly, not caring to remember the first once.

He suddenly wondered whether Morse had fought, and whether Morse had slain, and then realized the question had never presented itself to him because he simply couldn’t imagine it. Not his Morse.

Well… no, not _his_ Morse, because he _wasn’t_ his Morse, was he, would never be _his_ Morse, no matter what the Thursdays believed….

He sighed. “Alright, at least we know where the child is. Even in Oxford, there has to be a limited amount of them.”

* * *

Win was puttering about in the kitchen, still rather pleased with how dinner had gone. She really hoped that Morse now knew he could trust them, and that there was at least one other place in Oxford where he didn’t have to feel guilty for loving someone.

Before she’d met them, she wouldn’t have assumed that someone like Jakes would interest Morse, and not just because he was a man. No; She admittedly was a little surprised because he was someone who took a lot of care in his appearance, who was confident and quite charismatic.

She’d quickly realized they balanced each other out, though. Morse was much more relaxed when Jakes was around, and the way Jakes in turn had looked at him…

Yes, these two were in for the long haul, there was no question about that, and Win would do everything in her power to make that a possibility.

Even if just by providing a safe haven for them when they needed it.

* * *

Find a child… find a child… Jakes idly tempted a man to steal a wallet, then moved on.

Find a child. What kind of child, that was the trouble.

First of all, there was this whole boy-and-girl thing he’d never quite managed to understood. Oh, he knew it was important so that more children could be born, procreation and all of that; but the eest…

Alright, so boy or girl? That was the question, but he somehow had the feeling that it might be a girl, for the simple reason that all of this had began with Eve picking an apple, and Heaven loved its symmetry…

Morse, since he had nothing to do for the day after the miracle, had slipped off to perform a few minor blessings. As long as it made him feel better…

If only Peter had had a clue what to do about this situation.

* * *

During the next few weeks, Morse felt more and more paranoid.

And not just because they were frantically trying to find a child.

No, this was something else.

Maybe it had to do with Gabriel’s visit; but he grew more and more concerned about his and Jakes’ meetings as time went on.

Really, he was slowly but surely starting to see the madness of their plan. No, not of saying the world – he was still wanting that, false as it may be – but an angel and a demon not only closely but now all but openly working together. What would he have done if Jakes had accompanied him to his flat and they had found Gabriel there together? They were no match for an archangel. Jakes would have been destroyed, and Morse taken to Heaven for punishment.

No, this has to end. He could very well work at finding the child himself – and then – and then –

Well, he supposed he would have to ask her to stop. Not open the book. Granted, since curiosity was one of mankind’s most prominent, and not to say endearing, features, it might not be easy, but it was all he could do.

But without Jakes. Working with him only put him at risk.

He knew what he had to do, even if he didn’t like it.

“Relax” Jakes told him one day in the pub, taking a generous sip of his pint, “You know none of your troop ever come to a place like this. They don’t know how to enjoy themselves.”

Morse looked miserably into his own drink and thought that this was because angels weren’t _supposed_ to enjoy themselves on earth. They were supposed to do their job.

But then, he’d never been very good at separating business and pleasure.

For example, the Agreement was only supposed to be a mutually beneficial contract; not something that led to them having drinks or laughing together or – worst of all – trying to save the world.

“Easy for you to say” he snapped. “You fell.”

“That was hardly my fault. I asked a few questions, made myself known, and suddenly I was spiralling down. That’s not much, is it?”

The thing was that Morse agreed with him but could hardly say so. He had been wondering for a while – a few centuries, at least (or that was all he was ready to admit to himself) why Jakes had fallen when he was so much more pleasant than most angels he knew; and any answer he could come up with was more disconcerting than the one before.

“Still” he argued. “Gabriel came to visit, and that in itself was highly unusual, and if he should ever decide –“

“In the name of Her, Morse, do you really believe that? I remember Gabriel very well. Mr. “It’s all Her will.” Mr. “I am not soiling the Temple of my celestial body.” Mr. “If you don’t do it my way, you’re not doing it at all.”

Against his will, a smile tugged at his lips, and Jakes’ devilishly handsome ( _stop it_ ) expression told him that he had noticed it too.

Still – “I don’t want to receive a strongly worded note again.”

Jakes’ face fell and Morse wished he could make him feel better ( _I said stop it_ ). “Look at it this way – Hell wouldn’t send a note.”

No, they wouldn’t. Which was one more reason they had to be especially careful. Hell would simply _destroy_ Peter.

It made his resolve harden. As he had felt more and more afraid, he had been praying for guidance; and the only solution, the only way he could keep Jakes safe, was – “We should stop.”

He blinked. “what? Stop trying to save the world? Get off it, angel, we agreed, and –“

“Yes, I know” he said coldly, much more coldly than he wanted. “I meant this – the Arrangement.”

Jakes stead at him. “No.”

“This is too dangerous, not to mention forbidden.”

“This hasn’t deterred you in over nine hundred years.”

“Yes, well, times are changing” he said. “They are coming to an end, for one.”

“And you just want to give up!?” he all but shrieked.

Morse saw a few heads turn their way. This wasn’t good. He hadn’t meant to draw attention. “NO, I am not giving up, but after quite a bit of meditation on the subject, I have come to the conclusion that it would not be a good idea to try and save the world with a demon of all people. She would hardly sanction that.”

He had meant to hurt him, and he immediately saw that he had succeeded. He fought down a wave of regret.

“Oh, you think so?” he spat.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. This has gone on for far too long.”

If Jakes had then proceeded to shout, or maybe hit him, it would have been one thing. But instead, he suddenly studied him with worry, and actually reached out to him. “Morse, are you alright? Did they get to you?”

The painful truth was that he would have thought Heaven capable of indeed trying to screw with his head, but never Jakes, and he hated both Heaven and himself a little for that.

But that couldn’t be.

And so, he doubled down. “No, I just saw the truth for what it is. And I cannot fraternize with a demon.”

_“Fraternize!?”_

Again, a few heads turned their way, but thankfully, thankfully, Jakes was getting up. “Fine. Have it your way. I’ll be off, then. Have a nice Doomsday.”

He stomped out his cigarette and stormed out, leaving Morse behind wit something that he feared, if he had been human, he could accurately have described as heart break. 

* * *

6000 years. 6000 years they had known each other, and this was how Morse choose to end it _. Oh, by the way, you’re a demon, so we can’t be friends anymore._

Only, he’d never really thought of them as friends, had he? He’d always believed them to be enemies, had never seen them as anything but.

Jakes had just fooled himself into believing that he did.

And now he’d kicked the Arrangement to the curb like it was nothing, told him what _they_ had had been nothing all along.

He cursed out loud, much to the chagrin of a mother with young children, but he couldn’t have cared less.

And this was what he had wanted to save this pile of dirt for? For Morse to just treat him like –

 _Fine_. This was it. Screw earth, screw Heaven, screw Hell and especially screw Morse.

He was leaving. Alpha Centauri was always nice at this time of the year.

**Alexandria – 48 BC**

Jakes had no idea if Julius Caesar was one of Heaven’s or Hell’s pet project – there was certainly enough evidence on both sides – but this was taking it a bit far.

Maybe he was thinking of a certain angel and his love of reading, but still – he thought even without Morse in the equation, the loss of so much knowledge would have made him uncomfortable.

He’s watching the library go down in flames and busy consoling himself with the thought that at least Morse wasn’t there to see it when said angel suddenly hissed behind his back “Is that your work!?”

He turned around and would have snapped back if he hadn’t seen the expression of honest heartbreak on his face as Morse stared at the fire. “No” he said honestly.

“Really?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“Enviously. You’re a demon.”

_And you never let me forget it, do you._

He sighed. “Morse, I promise, I didn’t do a thing. If someone tempted him into this, it was another demon. I don’t even know if there were any around.”

Morse looked at him, then nodded, his eyes wide, reflecting the flames. “It’s such a shame” he said quietly. “Sorry.”

Sorry for even assuming that Jakes would have something to do with it.

It was the very first time he’d ever apologized to him and meant it.

Jakes waved a hand in the air. “Don’t mention it. It’s rather upsetting, I agree.”

Morse nodded miserably. “I’ve spent quite a bit of time here. Reading.”

Undoubtedly instead of following Heaven’s orders. Maybe, Jakes thought, this had been one of their plans after all. As a sort of punishment.

He didn’t mention it because it would only have upset Morse further.

“Come on. I need a drink.”

* * *

It was just a day of firsts. Just as Morse had never apologized to Jakes before, he had never forgotten himself enough to actually get drunk in front of him, no matter how many drinks they’d had.

Seemed like today he was hell-bent on it though. That was already his third vase, and Jakes had barely finished his first.

“I – I mean –“ he gesticulated rather wildly. “The – the knowledge! There’s so much _knowledge_ that was destroyed! And who knows if the humans will ever get it back, the clever, little humans – they deserved it!”

“Of course they did” he said calmly.

“And – and – and then – along comes this Caesar. Who’s only ever wanted to be a dictator, by the way, I never bought – bought his act as benefa- benefit- as a good guy and he just tells them to burn it down for no reason!”

“Maybe he doesn’t like reading?”

His attempt at levity was not acknowledged. “It’s just so unfair!” Morse whined, taking another big gulp of his drink.

He nodded since there was nothing to say to that. It _had_ been very unfair.

“I need more to drink.”

“You could sober up” he suggested but again – he was ignored.

And so he ended up dragging an unconscious Morse to his place for the second time – he’d simply kept drinking until he’d fallen head first on the table and passed out.

Walking past the burn-out husk that used to be the library, it might have been for the best.

**Oxford – 1965**

The house was old and falling apart, and Milly was sure it was haunted. She had always known it was haunted, even though the grown-ups insisted it wasn’t.

But she knew. Such houses were haunted, they were evil, and they were dangerous.

And Milly was going to explore this house today.

She was in a good mood; Mum had given her an extra biscuit at tea because she’d been very ell-behaved since her last little problem.

And so, she had decided to finally be brave and explore the house.

She wasn’t quite sure if there were only ghosts or monsters and a witch as well, but she was ready to find out.

And so she walked towards it, feeling rather brave.

The problem was that, as soon as she walked up to the door, everything changed.

She swallowed as she looked at the dark windows.

But she had made her decision and she would prevail.

And so, she looked around before opening the door and slipping inside. It creaked, just as the boards under her feet.

At first, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, which was slightly disappointing, but on the other hand, it made her feel infinitely braver, so she proceeded

Still no monsters, or witches, or demons (granted, she wasn’t quite sure what those were, but she supposed they were bad, if not as bad as the other two) but a lot of dust. Odd. She’d always assumed that haunted houses were kept clean.,.. if not by the ghosts, then by magic.

Quickly and quietly, she made her way through the entirety of the living room before coming to stand in front of the basement door.

Should she dare? Maybe, she reasoned, the ghosts were asleep during day time, and that meant they would most likely be hiding there, where it was dark and cold.

On the other hand… What if the ghosts weren’t there?

And that strange child became acutely and strongly aware that she didn’t want to live in a world where stories weren’t real.

Just then, somewhere, a window fell closed. Or perhaps a car made a weird noise. She’d never know.

What she did know was that she suddenly turned around and ran out of the house in a blind panic.

Only to run into the arms of a man she vaguely recognised.

“Now, now!” Father Mark exclaimed.

Milly hadn’t seen him often – only knew of him because his church was in their street; her parents held very comfortable and rather inobtrusive C of E beliefs and were happy enough declaring anything else as “Catholic pomp.”

Nevertheless, Father Mark was well liked enough. He was always ready to help out or give advice.

However, he would have rather been put out knowing what he was about to help out with.

For, seeing only a small, scared child, and one who looked vaguely familiar at that, he considered it his duty to look after her until she was calm enough that she could articulate where she lived and who her parents were, and he took her to his small abode next to the church.

Or, as Milly called it, in the room full of books.

It was when Father Mark went to get tea for them both that it happened.

As stated before, Milly loved books; and so she was busy perusing the shelves for ones that struck her fancy as she felt it call out to her.

She would not have known to describe the sensation as such, if she had been asked to; noir would she have been able to let anyone know what had happened to her in that very moment.

But there was a book, and it wanted her to take it.

She knew as much.

She move towards the shelf where it lay, acquired years ago at a flea market and all but forgotten about by Father Mark, because it should be so; because so it had been declared; and not the least because an angel – not Morse, whop had been rather busy at the time (Jakes had been in South America, and he’d hurried to be there although he would naturally have denied it; and anyway, even if he had been available, it would probably have been one of the occasions where Gabriel decided someone else was needed) – had made sure of it.

No, it was because this wasn’t just a book.

This was The Book.

The one who would start the end of it all, if an innocent opened it a few weeks from now.

Of course it had been made certain that she wouldn’t be able to until then; but the point was, she knew it was he brook, that they were meant for each other, and that she wanted nothing more than to take it with her.

And so, that was what she did.

With a wildly beating heart, she grabbed the small, black book without a title on its cover, and made away.

When Father Mark came back a few minuet later, he naturally worried for the child, but didn’t miss the book.

He never would.

* * *

Morse felt terrible. The truth was, he had done the right thing; But no matter how often he told himself, it didn’t work.

Because the other part of the truth was that he’d deliberately sent away the one person he could possibly have called his friend, if he didn’t count the humans he’d grown fond of.

Speaking of which… “Oy, lad, got lost in your head again?”

He raised said head to look at Thursday. Right. They’d gone to the pub for lunch. “Ham and tomato.”

“Yes” he said, unpacking his sandwich. “But that wasn’t my question.”

“I –“ he hesitated. “I –“

“Wouldn’t happen to have to do with an old friend you reconnected with, ay?”

Od course. Thursday was nothing if not shrewd.

Better get it over with, then, so that he wouldn’t ask about Jakes again. Morse took a deep breath – not that he needed it, but the gesture grounded him – and said, as casually as he could, “He’s probably going to move away again.”

In fact, knowing the demon and how quickly he tended to make decisions, he was probably half-way off to the stars by now.

His heart ached.

“Oh?” Thursday raised an eyebrow. “Too bad – seemed to be making himself really comfortable here.”

He wanted to shrug and simply move on, but something about the honest sympathy in Thursday’s voice made him want to confess. “I – I told him it might be better for all of us.”

Thursday said nothing.

“I – I mean – us – we – it’s… dangerous. For those… like us” he tried, hoping Thursday would fill in the gaps.

He did. “I won’t deny that it is” he said carefully, obviously trying not to let anyone who might overhear their conversation guess the truth (only it wasn’t the truth, was it?) “But it seems a bit harsh that you should deny yourself a chance at happiness, lad.”

“Some people” he said quietly “Aren’t meant for happiness.”

It was true; he already knew that, if he failed, he would spend the rest of Eternity in Heaven, with the other angels he had next to nothing in common with, his only comfort being that he had sent Jakes away and would never see him again.

Thursday was frowning at him. “Don’t talk like that, lad. Everyone deserved a bit of happiness, even if they are…” he hesitated again before bravely continuing “A bit different.”

Morse had to fight the sudden and almost overwhelming urge to laugh. Good God, Thursday didn’t know how _different_ they were. Maybe he should show him his wings. That would be fun.

He realized he was being hysterical, as Jakes would undoubtedly have told him, and decided to stay quiet.

“I don’t mean to tell you what to do, but if there’s any chance, any chance at all Morse, that this fellow can bring a bit of light back into your eyes I suggest you should talk it through once more.”

Not that it would be much help, seeing as how he didn’t even know where Jakes currently was, but he nodded anyway.

He might as well make DI Thursday feel better. God knew they had precious little time left.

“Good, then”.

He seemed to believe him.

Morse sighed and wondered what Jakes was up to.

* * *

Said demon was currently packing. Unlike Morse, he didn’t own many things he cared for, but he had amassed a few odds and ends over the centuries…

And then, suddenly, he was holding the seal of a small amphora of wine.

He knew immediately where it came from.

The day the library of Alexandria had burned. The wine they had drunk. The first time Morse had apologized to him, as if he had realized he was worthy being apologized _to_ …

Jakes’ hands started to tremble.

If he left – what then? Either the world burned and Morse had to fight – and God knew what would happen – or he’d never know that the world had been saved and instead spent the rest of his existence alone among the stars.

And then he felt it.

The child had found the book.

He’d never even known demons would be able to tell. Could angels? Probably not. Armageddon was, after all, a joined venture; it only made sense that certain things would be felt by demons and others by angels.

He put the seal down and told himself that Morse had sent him away; that he didn’t want his company; that this was the last thing he should do.

And then he went to look for his angel once more because there was nothing else he could have done.

**Bethlehem – 6 AD**

So this was him, then, Her son.

Jakes didn’t have much experience with human children, but didn’t think he looked any different than any other babies he had ever seen.

There were other demons and angels around, of course. This was big news, be it in Heaven or Hell.

That said, he was still rather glad when he spied Morse. The angel continued to be the only creature he could stand for a longer period of time.

“Well that’s it, then” he said, casually strolling up to him. “Her son is born.”

Morse was studying the little family with a wistful expression on his face, though. “He’ll go through so much” he said, his voice laced with sorrow. “It’s unfair.”

“Unfair? Angel, he has to. Humanity has done bad enough in the past four thousand years. Remember the library of Alexandria?”

He regretted his quip when Morse’s face fell and hastened to add, “I get what you mean, though. It seems like such a waste.”

Now the angel looked grateful that he was agreeing with him, and he wondered if he’d perhaps made a few suggestions in Heaven and had been shot down.

It sounded like something Morse would do.

“The archangels are going to arrive soon” he said, regretting that Morse would undoubtedly tell him to leave. “They’re not about to stay put. Not on a night like this.”

To his utter delight, however, Morse reacted with, “Yes, we should probably go. Let me just…”

And he quietly and invisibly walked up to the little family.

The child, of course, could see him and squealed with delight.

Jakes’ corporation’s heart did the thing where it started to flatter around in his ribcage as Morse smiled in response.

He reached out and gently touched his forehead.

“A blessing of mine isn’t worth much compared to those he will undoubtedly receive from the archangels” he said as he stepped back up to Jakes, “But I figured it can’t hurt…”

And come what may, in all the years that followed Jakes never forgot that it had been Morse – a relatively unimportant messenger angel – who had been the first to bless Christ.

**Oxford – 1965**

After some careful consideration, Morse had decided that it might be for the best if a human would go look for a human child.

Now, what had they agreed on before he had – before Jakes – before?

Probably female. Rather young, since she had to be an innocent lamb. Probably an only child, since those tended to spend more time alone with books – at least, he thought so.

Alright, so if he eliminated all children over the age of the in Oxford…

He sighed. It was still a lot to do.

“Everything alright, matey?”

He raised his head to look at Sergeant Strange, probably the humaniest human he had ever met. “I…” he hesitated. What had he just been thinking of? “If I asked you to do me a favour, would you do it? It’s nothing illegal” he hastened to say “But there is something – someone I have to find.”

He friend. “No offense, but if you’re trying to reconnect with some bird…”

Why did everyone suddenly assume he was in a romantic relationship? He sighed again. “No. It’s – it’s a girl, but a young one – about… ten years of age.” Suddenly, he realized something and added, “I only very recently learned of her existence.”

His eyes widened. “Are you saying you might have a kid`?”

“Yes” he said, cringing internally at the lie, but this was the entire world they were speaking of.

“Goode Lord.”

“I – with the mother – it didn’t end well” he improvised, being painfully aware that Jakes had always been better at this than him.

Strange smiled a bit at that, probably because Morse had pretended to date from time to time because people tended to be confused when you didn’t, only to make up excuses as to why the relationship usually quickly fell apart. Jakes had actually made a habit out of sarcastically inviting him outs for drinks to console him. “I see.”

“And so… but… well – she – no not the mother – but her mother – she contacted me recently because she felt I had the right to know. Only that –“ Alright, think quickly, what mistakes do humans make, they push away those they love ( _ain’t it ironic_ , a voice that sounded suspiciously like someone else said in the back of his head and he ignored it) “Well, they don’t talk anymore and she got married, the daughter, I mean, or rather, not the daughter but the daughter of the mother –“

“Matey you’ll have to be a little clearer than that, I’m afraid.”

At least it gave him the opportunity to get his thoughts in order. “What I meant to say. The mother of – my child hot married and moved to Oxford, but she doesn’t even know her last name. They quarrelled, and she never met the husband.”

Strange whistled. “Sounds complicated”.

He shrugged his shoulders and did his best to look miserable, which was not a difficult task in the least.

“Ah, come on, I’m sure we’ll figure something out” Strange tried. “So, for example, how old is she?”

Oh great.

More lies.

“Who are you talking about? Can I help?”

And that was how Morse was not only forced to lie to Strange, but to WPC Trewlove as well – not a good sign, since he quickly became aware that she didn’t believe a word he was saying.

* * *

He had been grilled; that was the only way to describe it, he decided half an hour later. At least the suspicious look in WPC Trewlove’s eyes had eventually given way to something like pity as she made her own assumptions that there was more to the story than he led on.

Which would have been fine and well, if not for an unexpected visitor.

The door opened and Jakes strolled in as if he owned the place. “An – Morse. We need to talk.”

* * *

While it was true that still waters ran deep, and that Morse had indeed always been one of them, Shirley had immediately guessed there was more to this story of the child he was trying to find that he was willing to impart to Strange.

Only it couldn’t have been something to do with actually finding the girl, because otherwise, why even bring the topic up if he was withholding that kind of information?

However, when the man in the sharp suit strolled in, she knew.

 _Oh_. So that was the problem. Probably also why it hadn’t worked out with the mother. Maybe she’d known or suspected.

Shirley herself had turned a blind eye on more than one occasion already; she’d never considered it her business who people got involved with.

And so, she simply nodded at the man, who was busy dragging Morse out for “lunch.”

Strange shook his head. “Strange guys he hangs out with.”

Shirley decided not to comment and only let Inspector Thursday know that Morse had gone out with a friend when he in turn came to pick him up for lunch.

“Oh? Friend have a name?”

“Morse called him Jakes” she remembered him hissing the name when he’d grabbed him.

“Ah”. The inspector nodded, obviously satisfied, and Shirley knew that, even if Strange hadn’t understood, their boss certainly had.

* * *

“You can’t just –“

“I said, we need to talk.”

Jakes had dragged him two or three streets along before coming to a halt.

“Jakes, you can’t just –“

“She’s found the book.”

Morse was silent.

“I felt it.”

He tried to understand the enormity of the situation. And failed.

There was only one thing to do, however, and that was to accept it.

“That’s it, then” he said tiredly.

“Oh no you can’t just give up now!”

“What else is there to do?”

Jakes looked at him, then, and there was something in his eyes Morse had always fled from. “Come with me.”

“I don’t see how your place –“

“Not to my flat, you idiot! How can someone as clever as you be so stupid? I meant leave earth!”

“Leave – leave earth?” he repeated, the words not making much sense.

“Sure – the universe is big! We can go wherever you want! Together.”

“Together” he repeated again because that was all he was capable of, it seemed.

“Yes”. He still hadn’t let go of his arm. “We can go away together. Nobody’d miss us. Just slip quietly away and let them have their price fight.”

Nobody –

But there he was wrong.

Morse shook off his arm, immediately missing the contact and hating himself for the look it put on Jakes’ face. “People would miss us.”

“Angel, give it another week, and there won’t be any people!”

He knew. He knew. And that was why he couldn’t leave them behind. The Thursdays Strange, Trewlove… Doctor DeBryn…

No. He couldn’t.

Jakes’ expression fell further. “They might – you might fall” he said quietly. “And I don’t mean – I mean in battle”.

“I know.” In fact, Morse was rather aware that he’d probably be one of the first ones, due to the fact that Gabriel didn’t like him much and was sure to put him right on the frontlines, and him being rather injury-prone on his good days. After all, Jakes had had to carry him out of Jericho. And a few times after that.

“I –“ Jakes struggled to say something, and Morse understood that this was it. This was truly it. This was when they said goodbye and Jakes went off to the stars, leaving him behind.

He swallowed. What could one say, after six thousand years, if not of friendship, than of companionship and an understanding he’d never found with anyone else? “Jakes, I –“

“Fine” he threw his hands in the air. “Fine. The original plan is back on. We need to find the stupid kid with the stupid book and get it out of her stupid little fingers before they can break the stupid seal so this stupid sphere of mud and water can stay put.”

“What?”

“I’m not letting you die” he shrugged.

Morse had felt every emotion conceivable when it came to Jakes over the course of their acquaintance, or so he believed.

For he had never before experienced such an urge to kiss him.

He didn’t, of course. Partly because he couldn’t on the open street. And partly because he had no idea how Jakes would react.

But he could…

And so, it was him who reached oust and touched Jakes’ arm.

The demon stopped still and stared into his eyes.

The eyes that were busy travelling towards Morse’s lips…

Surely not?

And he had no way of finding out, Well. No legal way.

It was beyond frustrating.

“Alright then” he said quietly, “Let’s do it.”

**Camelot – 540 AD**

Back in the days when Jakes had had to compete for Morse’s attention with Socrates and his bunch, he’d never thought he’d miss them, but it had finally come to this.

God, he _hated_ this century. He hated its dampness, the fact that there was no clear water to be found, the badness of the food.

So, really, he probably wasn’t doing a very good job as a demon right now, hanging around King Arthur’s court because it was the most comfortable place around and not doing anything to change it.

Maybe – maybe – he would eventually have started with a few temptations, though.

If not suddenly another point in the court’s favours appeared.

He was standing somewhere near the throne with a few others of the lesser knights when the door was thrown open and “Sir Morse of Celestia” was announced.

Jakes stood still and stared.

He himself had always trouble with his armour and it was simply unfair how good Morse looked in his.

He saw him immediately, of course. He usually did, even when he was busy cloaking his presence.

His eyes, however, never strayed from King Arthur as he properly introduced himself.

It was only later, when he was ostensibly mingling with his new, for lack of a better word, colleagues, that they could finally talk.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, King Arthur over there’s been a bit too successful when it comes to spreading peace and harmony.”

“So you’re… What?” he frowned. “Fomenting discontent?”

He rolled his eyes. Always with the big words. “Really I’ve got better things to do than hop around in damp places and make people’s lives miserable.”

Morse opened his mouth, undoubtedly to inquire why he shouldn’t be doing that when Jakes had an epiphany and quickly added, “You haven’t heard the court bard, have you? Owein is quite the talent, I assure you.”

As always, his eyes lit up when he mentioned music, and he allowed Jakes to lead him away.

And, as he watched him listening, as always giving his full attention to the music, Jakes made a decision.

Only for him to regret when he later breached the subject of them actively working together – doing small blessings and temptations for each other, for one thing – and Morse stormed huffing and puffing to the other end of the hall, every bit the indignant angel.

Well then.

**Oxford – 1965**

The world was going to go up in flames soon.

The world was going to go up in flames soon, angels and demons would be making their way onto the battle field.

The world was going to go up in flames soon, angels and demons would be making their way onto the battle field, one side was sure to lose, and yet Jakes couldn’t help but feel like he was back amongst the clouds, hanging up the stars.

Because Morse had touched him deliberately, and he hadn’t pushed him away again.

Morse wanted him around, and not just because he was useful.

If only they hadn’t had to worry about the Apocalypse.

The angel had explained about Strange and Trewlove – if they could help, Jakes was all for it, although he hadn’t been able to hide his amusement at the thought of Morse having a Nephilim, of all angels – and then returned to the station, still very conscious of his duties.

Jakes thought it mostly a waste of time, but he certainly wasn’t about to argue with his angel again.

The look in his eyes when he’d touched his arm…

Yes, they _had_ to save earth, if only so Jakes could find out where it could lead.

He walked back home, whistling to himself.

* * *

When the lad brought him a file, Fred studied him carefully, registering with relief that he’d lost that haunted look about his eyes.

Good news, then. Still, better make sure.

He cleared his throat. “So Officer Trewlove tells me you had a guest for lunch…”

He actually blushed. “Yes, sir.”

“And? Nice lunch?”

His blush deepened.

Smitten, Fred decided, was a good look on the lad. Made him seem much more alive, for one thing. “It was… nice, you could say that, yes.”

“So… all differences resolve, then?” he hinted when nothing more was forthcoming.

“I – most of them.”

“So he’ll be staying on after all, then?”

“I… think so, sir.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“I hope so.”

“It is” he said firmly. Best get those thoughts out of his head now, lest they had a repeat of what had taken place the week prior. “Nothing wrong with having a good friend around.”

A pause. Then, quietly, “Thank you, sir.”

“That said… he’s… good to you, right lad?” The last thing he wanted was to send Morse back into an uncomfortable situation. Somehow, the thought hadn’t even entered his head until now.

Another bluish, and sparkling eyes. “Yes. Always.”

Well, that was good then. Let the lad have some fun. “Alright then, back to work.”

“Sir.”

Once he told Win, she’d probably insist on having them over for dinner again.

**Britain – 1022**

Times were changing. Oh, as for the mortals, they wouldn’t know for a few more decades, but what was that for a demon or an angel? Nothing.

Jakes had checked out the baby – destined to be the last English king – more out of curiosity than anything… no, that wasn’t true. He had checked him out because he knew someone else might be curious.

Morse had been pretty skittish ever since he’d in-advisedly suggested an… arrangement of sorts between then. After reflecting on it, Jakes had realized that it was his own bloody fault. He should have taken his time, prepared him for the idea, but instead he’d blurted it out and ever since then Morse had been very wary when he came to see him.

And because of that fact, Jakes had now been all but camping ion front of the young price’s door for a week.

God, he was pathetic. Small wonder she’d cast him out.

And then, suddenly, there he was.

Morse was hurrying past him, smiling to himself, obviously intent on blessing the baby despite what would eventually happen.

That was just how he was.

Jakes stayed in the shadows, unsure whether to greet him or not. He didn’t want to hear another excuse why Morse was so busy right now, sorry, can’t do it, see you soon, only to have to wait another century or so…

When he had come up with the Arrangement, he had mistakenly believed that Morse at least _cared_ for him.

“Hello”.

The well-known voice interrupted his thoughts.

He stared at Morse. “Hello?”

“Why are you here?”

He shrugged. “Interest in human politics.”

He frowned. “You’ve never been interested in politics.”

“It’s been fife hundred years, angel”. Since their last real talk, anyway. “People change.”

“Exactly” he pointed out correctly (why did he always have to be so _bloody_ clever) “People. Not angels or demons.”

“I was just curious, alright?” he snapped.

Morse shrugged and Jakes steeled himself for another quick goodbye when he asked, “Do you want to have drinks?”

Well.

That was new.

* * *

It became pretty clear that Morse was building up the courage to say something, although what he wanted to talk about, Jakes had no idea.

Certainly he wasn’t here to discuss policy issues. Apart from them not being consulted on such things, they could hardly expect to agree (although Jakes, in his heart of hearts, knew only too well that he’d agree with Morse in many, many ways, if he’d been allowed to).

He could have begun a conversation, but that would probably scare Morse off, so he instead waited.

And then finally, Morse said, “I have been thinking.”

“Wow. Never would have expected that of you.”

Morse glared at him and Jakes allowed himself a pleased little smile. “Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?”

Jakes shrugged and took another sip of his wine. Not as good as one they had had in Alexandria that night, but still.

“So I’ve been thinking” he repeated and Jakes contemplated throwing in another barb but decided against it. “There… sometimes I find the tasks you and I are expected to perform rather… mundane.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, often, demons and angels just cancel each other out, wouldn’t you say? A blessing here, a temptation there, creating a saint or a sinner… and don’t even get me started on long-term assignments and being stuck somewhere.”

Was this going where Jakes thought it was going? Oh, please.

“What I’m trying to say is… well… there was something to your offer. Why should two… ethereal – well, actually one ethereal and one occult being – do the work when it can easily be done by one?”

“So you’re saying you would enjoy an arrangement” Jakes grinned.

Morse blushed fiercely. “I said nothing about enjoying. I merely pointed out the truth in your statement at King Arthur’s court, and that I may have been hasty when rejecting your proposal.”

Seriously, did he have to use words like _proposal_ when it came to Jakes? Things like this didn’t help at all.

He sighed internally, but he was still rather happy about it all.

“Well then. So you propose to accept my proposal?”

Great, now he was doing it, too.

Morse was still sporting a rather interesting shade, though. “I – yes.”

“Alright”. Jakes reached out with his right hand. “It’s a deal.”

Morse studied his palm for a moment, then slowly moved to meet it and they shook on it.

Before having several more drinks to celebrate, although Morse insisted that there was nothing to celebrate.

Silly angel.

But still – Jakes had got what he wanted.

After all, the Arrangement meant that they had to meet much more often than before to coordinate. And if there was one thing Jakes craved beyond all else, although he wouldn’t have admitted it even under torture…

It was more time with his angel.

**Oxford – 1965**

Morse, Strange thought to himself, heroically managing not to shake his head. Of bloody course Morse would be the one with a child out of wedlock. How many birds had he had this year, so far? The names were constantly changing, and it wasn’t easy to keep track.

Still; he deserved to get to know his child, no matter how badly things had ended with the mother. And Strange knew him well enough to be certain that, whatever had happened, there had been nothing... on towards in Morse’s behaviour – at least nothing hurtful or illegal – maybe they’d just had a fight.

Maybe she hadn’t liked Morse’s style of life; God knew the man had weird friends. Like that fellow who’d shown up to drag him to lunch. He’d tried commenting on it, but Trewlove had just given him an enigmatic smile, and Thursday, to his surprise, had actually looked happy that it had happened, although he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. Morse had looked better though when he’d come back, so that was something.

Perhaps the bloke had brought him some good news or something. Who knew.

Trouble was there were quite a few families with a single girl in Oxford.

But still…

Morse deserved to at least see the kid, have a chance to get to know her.

* * *

He really should have had the idea to allow humans to track done other humans sooner, Morse thought – there wasn’t much time left.

But still, they had to try, if only because they couldn’t let this happen without attempting to prevent it.

Earth was much too fascinating.

Not to mention, it had Jakes.

As usual, the thought of the demon brought a warm feeling to Morse’s ribcage, but unlike the usual, he didn’t fight it down. Jakes had after all decided to stay for him, because of him.

No one had ever done something like this for Morse. No one. Least of all one of his fellow angels.

He suddenly realized that he didn’t care one bit for them. How could he? Should he feel sympathy for Gabriel, who only ever came down to earth to reprimand someone or shop for suits? Or Michael, who everyone knew had back channels to Hell, but no one would ever confront just because they were an archangel as well and even someone like Gabriel knew back channels were useful? And then all the others, the Metatron, Sandalphon, Uriel…

None of them had ever had a drink with Morse, or shared laughter with him, the way Jakes had. None of them had ever carried him around unconscious because he’d been careless and almost got discorporated. None of them had ever brought him to ether home for no other reason than to keep him safe.

When She had created them, She had given Jakes so much goodness, and he’d retained that even after his Fall. Morse had never asked why he’d fallen, or joined the rebellion, but he knew it must have been for reasons he’d considered good enough, and with a jolt he realized that also meant they were good enough for Morse.

Yes, they were going top band together and save the world.

Who cared about bloody Heaven and Hell and keeping score anyway.

They were on their own side.

* * *

Jakes still couldn’t quite believe that Morse had finally completely agreed that they should work together. After six thousand years, it was almost indescribable.

And all just because Jakes had once more not been able to say no to those baby blues.

If he was being honest – and he wasn’t supposed to be honest, but really, who cared anymore, the world could easily end very soon – he had been lost the very first time he looked into these eyes at the Garden.

And so they were a team once more, even if they should go down together.

He smiled.

And then of course there was his idea with the other policemen…

He’d always known his angel was clever.

Even if he sometimes made stupid, rash decisions.

**London – 1348**

Things, Jakes well knew, were only going to get worse from here. Oh, people thought they were bad enough already, with more and more falling victims to the Plague, but it was nothing compared to what was going to happen.

So why was he still here? Granted, the disease was spearing through most of the continent, but it wasn’t like he was bound to be here…

Who was he kidding. He knew exactly why he was still strolling through those well-known streets.

 _He_ had to be here somewhere. He _had_ to be.

The angel had never been able to resist when he heard or saw humans suffering.

He had to be here somewhere, and if Hakes knew him – and he did – then he was sure to be in trouble.

And so it proved, although for once, that trouble didn’t come from the outside.

When he’d felt the tell-tale tingling that indicated the angel was near, Jakes had slowed down and soon come to stand in front of a small house in a crowded street.

Those were the ones most at risk, he knew, even though the humans didn’t.

He looked in through the window, wishing to first assess the situation before walking in.

And there he was, gently cleaning a little girl’s forehead.

Jakes winced when he realized her and her by the looks of it four siblings’ parents had already passed. Probably before Morse arrived; he would have tried his outmost to keep it from happening.

He entered quietly and watched for a few moments until the girl mumbled something and Morse reeled around.

Jakes almost took a few steps back.

Not just because Morse looked worse than he had ever seen him – gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes even though they didn’t need rest, and his hair askew – but there was something in his eyes, something as close to hatred as he’d ever shown Jakes.

And it hurt, hurt even as he suddenly understood. “Not one of ours” he said tiredly. “Less people means less souls to tempt to our side.”

Morse looked at him; the expression slowly left his face until he looked worryingly calm. He nodded and turned back to the girl.

Jakes bit his lip and looked at the other children.

Then he moved to help.

* * *

“They’ll live, angel” he said quietly after night had fallen. “They’ll live.”

“I know.”

He still didn’t show any emotion. None at all.

“And they’ll be orphans” he said flatly. “We might have saved their lives just so they can starve a few weeks from now. If they don’t get sick again, or someone comes to cut their throats because they want their place, or they get taken by someone else…”

Jakes studied him, feeling incredibly worried. He’d never sounded so… callous. Almost cruel.

“Come on.”

“Where to?” he asked carelessly, and his worries deepened.

“My place” he started shoving him in the direction. “Come on” he repeated.

And Morse, apparently completely spent, simply followed him.

When they had arrived, Jakes led him immediately to his bedroom.

“What –“

“Lie down. You need to rest.” _Please, angel,_ he begged silently _. I can’t lose you like this, all your curiosity and your fondness for humanity ripped from you by this tragedy._

“I don’t sleep” he informed him.

He rolled his eyes. “I know. Just lie down.”

He did so, but still insisted, “I just don’t see how –“

Jakes snapped his fingers.

Immediately, Morse eyes fell closed and he sank into his most likely first-ever sleep.

Jakes quickly did his best to make him comfortable. He’d ensured he’d sleep through the night, deeply and dreamlessly.

* * *

The next morning, he decided to make them breakfast. Granted, Morse might either run aa soon as he woke up (which would be bad) or he would be as apathetic as he had been yesterday (which would be worse) but still.

He had just managed to boil the eggs (God, did he wish the mortals would hurry up with their clever inventions to make cooking easier) when Morse stumbled into the room, blinking, his hair sticking out at all angles.

He looked utterly adorably, but Jakes was careful not to let it show.

“What – “ He swallowed, blinked some more, ran his fingers through his curls. “What happened?”

“How much do you remember?” he asked, unsure of how sleeping would affect him.

“I -. The children – you were there. You helped. And then we went to your place I think…” he frowned. “And then I…”

“Woke up” Jakes suggested, concentrating on the food so Morse wouldn’t see the truth in his eyes. “You were exhausted and passed out the second you sat down.”

“I don’t pass out.”

“You did this time” he said firmly. “And if you ask me, you clearly needed it.”

A miserable expression crossed his face.

Jakes decided he never wanted to see it again.

“They – they’re suffering, Jakes. So many are suffering and it’s not fair.”

“I know, angel” he sighed. “But you know how it is – comes form the whole thing with the apple and free will.”

“They didn’t choose to die of the Plague!”

“No, and that makes it worse, I know. Now sit down; you should eat something. Get your strength up.“

This time he didn’t even point out that he didn’t need to eat, and Jakes took it as a win.

Morse, of course, could not be brought to take it easy, instead setting out again immediately afterwards to alleviate suffering while he could.

Jakes wished he could have gone with him, but there were quite a few demons and angels around these days, what with all those blessings and temptations to complete before the humans dropped like flies, and they couldn’t risk being seen…

Morse stopped in his door, however. “Jakes?” he sounded unsure.

“Yes?”

Their eyes met. “Thank you.”

Oh. A warm glow settled in his chest. “You’re very welcome” he told him.

Morse blushed and left.

**Oxford – 1965**

There had to be more; there had to be. Why else would She give them a book where Her truths were laid out?

_Think, Morse, think. Jakes thinks you’re clever, and you know it. Come on, prove yourself._

And then, he closed his eyes and prayed. _Oh Lord, look at what you’ve created; mankind deserves so much more time. Please, help me._

With closed eyes, he opened the Bible and read the first verse that came before him.

Hm. Isaiah 65:25. _The wolf and the lamb shall graze together; the lion shall eat straw like the ox, and dust shall be the serpent's food. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain,” says the Lord._

Wait.

_The wolf and the lamb shall graze together._

The lamb. The child. And Wolf…

Together.

The child was called Wolf.

He jumped up. “Sorry, Strange, I have to… pursue some inquiries. I’ll be back soon.”

_If the world doesn’t end and I can convince the child to leave the book alone. If I reach Jakes in time._

If if if.

And so, off he went.

* * *

Well. That had been a strange exit, even for Morse. Strange frowned, then stepped up to his desk.

Oh. What is that –

_Name. Wolf._

Had he found his girl after all? Was her last name Wolf?

In that case, there couldn’t be all too many of that name.

Small wonder he‘d looked like this, then. Poor guy was trying to find his daughter.

Strange considered this for a moment, then went to find Trewlove.

Better make sure.

* * *

“Granted, it’s something, angel” Jakes said, “More than we had. Of course. But well… 979 families by the name of Wolf doesn’t exactly inspire me with confidence”. They had miracled themselves two phone books and were busy going through them.

“There must be something else” Morse said, frantically flipping the pages; “After all, why would She let us get so far if we weren’t supposed to have a chance…”

Jakes himself couldn’t bring himself to quite that level of optimism but continued to search.

And then he had an idea. “Morse.”

His head snapped up. “Yes?”

“Look, this is all about God and the Ineffable plan and something – so why not look for something to do with religion? Like streets with church in their names and so on.”

“You’re a genius!”

Jakes was rather glad he dived right back in and couldn’t see his expression.

Morse was flipping through the pages, muttering to himself. Then, suddenly, “There!”

He pointed out an entry.

Jakes read J. Wolf, Church Cowley Road. “How can you be sure?”

“There’s an old cemetery next to the church.”

His eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “It begins, as it shall end, in a garden.”

“Exactly.”

“Well then” he decided “Let’s go.”

* * *

Until today, it simply… hadn’t felt right to open the book.

It might have sounded silly, seeing as she was so certain that book had always been meant for her, but so it was.

Therefore, when she woke up and realized today was the day, Milly felt overjoyed.

Finally she would get to see what was inside.

And so, she decided to go back to the cemetery – back to where it had all started.

She wanted to be alone with her book, and no one ever came to the cemetery.

* * *

Win was shopping when she suddenly saw Morse and Peter Jakes dart through the street, apparently intent on getting somewhere.

She couldn’t even say what made her do it – although later she would consider that first of all, Morse should have been with Fred and even if he’d been pursuing inquiries, he would hardly have taken his sweet heart with him – but she quickly set out to follow them.

* * *

There was a prickling at the back of Jakes’ neck but he didn’t have the time to turn around. Really, anyone in their situation would have felt a little paranoid; this was nothing compared to what would happen if the other angels found out what they were doing.

They were racing towards the Church.

“When this is over” Morse panted “I’m getting a car. A Jaguar.”

Jakes knew of his weakness for them, but was also aware that until now, he’d steadfastly refused to get one because it wouldn’t fit with his “I’m only a poor Constable who’s stuck paying off Dad’s bills” act.

Why he had ever had to pretend that he had had a family in the first place was a mystery to Jakes, one he hoped he would find out because there would be an _after this_ , and not just one where Morse was stuck in Heaven with nothing but Liszt to listen to for all eternity.

**Vienna – 1768**

It was utterly ridiculous to be jealous of humans. They were simply too short-lived to be true companions to either angels or demons, so even when Morse showed fondness for one of them, it wasn’t as if Jakes had anything other to do than wait.

And this one especially… he was a child, for Heaven’s sake.

But, and this was the problem; Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart happened to be a musical prodigy, and Morse loved music, and so here they were again at another concert, with the angel ignoring him while staring at the boy like he was a miracle.

Jakes fidgeted in his seat. Oh, it was perfectly fine music, he knew that; and it was somewhat astonishing that such a small boy had written and was now performing it.

The trouble was that Morse considered it _incredibly_ enchanting, and would spend the next few hours – long after the performance had ended – in utter thrall of the melodies, all but ignoring Jakes in the process, no matter what he did.

Again, it wasn’t that he didn’t like the music too, he was just a blitzed put out that he’d gone to the trouble to seek the angel out only to be ignored.

This time, at least, he was rewarded for his patience by Morse looking at him with sparkling eyes as soon as the concern had ended.

“I can’t wait what he comes up with as an adult.”

“Probably more melodies?” he supplied and Morse rolled his eyes.

“Exactly! He’s already written operas, albeit some with help from others – just imagine!”

Morse and his operas. The first time he’d heard one, he’d apparently hung around the place for three months. At least that was what Jakes had managed to get out of him when he’d gone looking for him, just to make sure he hadn’t gotten himself in any scrapes lately.

“We’ll have to come back when he’s grown, then. Usually only takes about two decades”.

Morse nodded enthusiastically.

If only, Jakes thought somewhat sadly after they’d bid each other goodbye, Morse would ever look at him like he did at anyone who played music. He’d even tried learning it, but had not had much of a talent for it.

**Oxford – 1965**

Fred was working on some files when his phone rang.

“Fred?”

He knew immediately something was going on. “Pet?”

“I – I know this sounds perhaps a bit weird, but I’m at Cowley Church… did you send Morse here?”

He frowned. “No. We don’t have any case there right now.”

“Morse and Peter Jakes are here. And they look worried.”

Hm. Maybe someone had spooked them? But anyway, Morse was supposed to be working, and he was Fred’s responsibility. “Thanks, love. I’ll check it out.”

“I’ll wait here.”

“Win…”

“The more people loo out for that poor boy, the better.”

He couldn’t help but agree with her there.

* * *

Milly was once again at the old cemetery, enjoying herself by being alone as she so often had done in the past.

She had the book with her. Somehow, it felt right. As if she had deserved a treat and finally earned it.

Yes, she would open the book today and see what was in it.

She whistled. Not very well but loudly.

* * *

Strange immediately knew that something was up when the Old Man left his office.

“Where’s Morse?”

He hesitated. “Sir…”

“Where is Morse?”

“He is… pursuing inquiries. Asked me to hold down the fort.”

Granted, he hadn’t, but Strange was more than happy to do it.

“So?”

“Well, sir, he… it’s really not my place to say.”

He couldn’t just rat to the Old Man about Morse’s private life. It was simply not done.

Thursday looked at him and grumbled “So if I said he… he was near Cowley Church, you would be surprised?”

“I didn’t ask for specifics, sir, no.”

A church? Huh. If his former girl was religious… and believed he’d abandoned her or something like that…

“Just answer me this, Sergeant, could there be trouble for Morse?”

“I think so, sir.”

“Well then.”

Unsurprisingly, DI Thursday immediately decided to follow him; and Jim, feeling rather responsible, offered to go with him. He was scared he’d refuse. But when he saw how worried he was, he acquiesced.

They quickly found that Trewlove was determined to follow them as well, and when Trewlove was adamant, nothing could stop her.

* * *

Very soon, Milly told herself, trying to make the anticipation last longer. Very very soon she’d open the book and read what was inside.

She almost couldn’t wait anymore. Almost.

* * *

“So” Jakes asked “You think she’ll be in the cemetery?”

Morse nodded as they ran along the church. “She should be.,”

Jakes would have liked a more affirmative answer than that, but it’d have to make do. “Should we spread out?”

“Not sure.”

Again, certainty would have been nice.

* * *

“Are you sure” Thursday asked, feeling more and more frustrated “That you can’t tell me more than that, Sergeant?”

“Please, Sir” WPC Trewlove piped up, “It really is a highly personal matter, and I don’t see how we could possibly betray Constable Morse’s confidence like that. Especially considering…” she trailed off. Their eyes met in the rear-view mirror and Fred knew immediately that she had guessed as well.

* * *

Really, what were those two up to? A cemetery?

Win knew she should probably have waited, but she felt too concerned for the poor boys. What if they had been coerced into something? She better check it out.

Fred could admonish her for it later when they were all safely at home.

She didn’t even realize she was already including Morse and Peter Jakes in that.

* * *

Yes. Now. Now was the moment. Milly could feel it in the air.

She licked her lips, as if she was going to eat something yummy, and reached for the book.

Only to be rudely interrupted by someone shouting, “Kid, wait!!!”

**New York – 1913**

He had been waiting for Morse for two hours now.

This was unheard of, and Jakes decided to check up on him.

No reason to panic, he told himself. Maybe Morse had forgotten; maybe Heaven had called and he’d decided it was too risky.

But why hadn’t he sent him a message then, his brain decided to ask.

Jakes decided he didn’t much care for that thought.

And so he abandoned it and went to the small shack Morse had spent the better part of the last decade in.

He knocked but there was no answer.

Now feeling indeed rather worried, he opened it with a snap of his fingers and strolled in.

Only to strop and stare as he took in the sight in front of him.

Morse was sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers; he was holding a pen and frowning at the sheet he was currently busy with.

“Morse?”

No reaction.

“Morse!”

Again, no reaction.

Jakes had had enough. He stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder.

Morse humped and looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes. “Jakes? What are you doing here?”

“What am I – what are you doping? We were supposed to meet up!”

Morse blinked. “Oh.”

“What is this?” He picked up one of the papers; it appeared to have been ripped out of a newspaper. “Fun’s Word-Cross puzzle?”

“They’re amazing!” Morse’s eyes were shining. “You have to fill out the clues…”

“What for?”

“So you finish it!”

Jakes quickly decided this was another one of those things the angel got but he never would, like music. “Nice to know you’ve been having fun” he said, feeling slightly irritated. He’d been stood up for papers.

To his credit, Morse did look apologetic as he got up.

And, over the course of the decade, Jakes came to value Morse’s good mood after having quickly solved a cross-word puzzle, as they eventually became known, that in 1924 he bought him the first collection book just to see his face.

It was worth it.

**Oxford – 1965**

“There” Jakes gabbed Morse’s arm. “That’s a blonde head of hair, isn’t it? Between the grave stones.”

“You’re right, Let’s go!”

* * *

Milly looked at the two men who were running towards her. She wasn’t scared in the least (although she decided later that she probably should have been because she wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers).

“Look, kid” the taller one said (she’d never liked being called kid, and he had already done so twice) “I know this is probably not what you want to hear right now, but you really need to put that book away unopened.”

She frowned. “But it’s my book! It’s for me. It’s… it’s always been for me.”

The smaller of the man, the one with the curls, leaned down to properly look into her eyes. “I know that...”

“Milly” she automatically said.

“Believe me, I know, Milly. But if you should open it… Something very bad is going to happen.”

Milly was old enough to know when grownups said something like that it usually meant something interesting was about to take place.

But somehow, the man seemed very sincere.

She looked down at the book again.

* * *

Oh. They were just talking to a little girl.

There was a sort of man Win would never have allowed to do such, but even if she hadn’t known about Morse and Peter Jakes’ preferences, she wouldn’t have thought them capable of any atrocities, so she relaxed slightly. No danger after all. Oh well; she would never regret asking Fred for help, or making him aware that his bagman might be in trouble.

Still, she might as well make absolutely sure.

* * *

“There we are” Fred said, getting out of the car, the others following suit. He let his eyes wander across the church and the surrounding buildings. “We should spread out.”

They nodded and did just that.

Fred himself decided to check out the surroundings of the church first. Morse had never really struck him as a believer, but he certainly loved his church concerts, so who knew?

* * *

“Hello, Morse, Peter” a soft voice rang out from behind them, and Morse closed his eyes. No. Not here. Not now. 

“Mrs. Thursday!?” Jakes asked, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

“I just saw you walk by and thought I’d make sure everything’s fine…” she smiled at the girl, ”Hello, dear. I’m Win. Who are you?”

God, what had they done to deserve this?

“Mrs. Thursday…” he began, but Milly, who had obviously decided that she preferred the nice, friendly woman who had shown up to the two strange men who were harassing her (and for good reasons, really) was already chattering away to her.

A least she wasn’t opening the book.

Jakes stared at Morse, obviously wondering what to do and he could only hopelessly shrug.

* * *

Ah. There they were. Not in danger, at least Fred didn’t think so; otherwise, Morse would hardly have allowed Win to lean down to –

A girl? What were they doing?

A suspicion darted into his mind, but surely not. He’d like to think that Morse would have told him if he had happened to father a child, and Jakes didn’t strike him as the type to do so.

Still, better find out what they were up to.

* * *

“I just – it _belongs_ to me, it was meant for _me_ , I don’t know how to explain it, Win, I really don’t, but I didn’t mean to do something bad –“

By now, Morse was considering advising DI Thursday to simply sit his wife down with their suspects instead of going through all the trouble of collecting evidence. She clearly could make anyone confess anything. Normally, a little child would have denied stealing until they were blue in the face.

She was stroking her hair now. “I’m sure, sweetie. Sometimes, things seem to make sense and we only later realize that they don’t –“

“Now, what’s this then?”

Seriously? Was every single Thursday going to show up? Morse couldn’t wait for Joan and Sam to start playing tag with Milly.

“Sir…” he began at the same time Jakes, unthinkingly, said, “DI Thursday.”

It was the wrong choice of words. Milly grabbed the book and pressed it against her breast, staring at Morse accusingly. “You’re going to have me arrested!”

“No, Milly” he said as calmly as he could, “And even if we wanted that – which we don’t – it wouldn’t be possible for us to –“

“We would never “Jakes interrupted him, and that was probably for the best. “You have to realize that, sweetheart.”

“I don’t have to do anything, and I’m _not_ your sweetheart!”

Morse was left to wonder what special kind of magic Mrs. Thursday possessed.

“There they are! Hey, matey!”

And now Strange. And Trewlove. A WPC. A WPC in uniform.

Things were just going better and better, weren’t they?

Milly shrieked when she saw Trewlove, but thankfully Mrs. Thursday pulled her into her arms.

_Yes. Hold her. Just don’t let her open the book._

As she was hushing her, Thursday demanded “What is going on here?”

“Sir, it’s a really long story –“

“I’m listening.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing bad, Morse” Mrs. Thursday said, looking up and rubbing her back. “See, she’s already calming down… that’s right dear, you’re being very brave. I’m proud of you.”

Seriously, how does she do it? “Well, sir, I – ahem –“

“Sorry matey but you have to tell him” Strange said, looking at Milly. “Doesn’t look much like your kid, though.”

_“What!?”_

“She isn’t – not really – but we needed to find her –“

“What for then?” Trewlove asked, frowning, clearly angry because he had lied to them.

“I – I –“ Come on, come up with something.

“You see” Jakes suddenly began improvising, “We were rather afraid that something would happen to Milly –“

Oh, something definitely would have happened if –

“But those are just blank pages!”

Morse looked down and realized that Milly, once she had stopped crying, had opened the book to show Mrs. Thursday.

“Welp” Jakes said flatly.

“Welcome to the end times.”

**Oxford – 1943**

Jakes wasn’t surprised to see Morse on the street, giving the collector of the Oxford Committee for Famine Relief’ apparently all the money he currently had in his wallet; what did rather baffle him was the expression on his face, though.

Why did he look so glum? Oh, perfectly willing and ready to part with his money, but there was something… subdued about him.

Had he been reprimanded again? Gabriel loved to do that from time to time just to make the other angels feel bad.

And so, Jakes decided to stroll up to him. “Hey angel.”

“Oh” he said quietly. “Hello.”

“Busy with good deeds, I see”.

Morse was staring after the collector, still looking forlorn. “Yes. Good deeds” he echoed.

“Anyway, so where are you stationed by now?”

They had only seen each other sporadically this past decade or so.

He waved towards the next street.

“Oh, show me then.”

The fact that he did so without even the least appearance of protests only made Jakes worry all the more.

He quickly figured out what was wrong. “Where’s everything?” he exclaimed.

“Sorry?”

“Well there’s – there’s nothing here but an old sofa! Where’s your books and your LPs!?”

“I – they need the money more. People in Greece are starving, and…” he trailed off, fiddling his fingers.

Jakes could only stare. “Why not just use a miracle?”

“It would have felt like cheating” he said softly. “And I didn’t have any reasons to buy those things anyway.”

That was Morse all over.

And Jakes made a decision.

* * *

It wasn’t difficult to figure out where Morse had sold his things, nor to get the salesman to trade back to Jakes.

“Hm, thought so” he mumbled to himself, and Jakes ignored the implications.

Instead, he strolled back to Morse’s and knocked.

When the angel saw the boxes, his eyes widened.

“It’s bad enough right now” He told him “Might as well enjoy ourselves as much as we can.”

Morse looked at him with his pretty eyes and opened the door widely.

They drank wine until six am the following day, one of Morse’s LPs playing in the background.

**Oxford – 1965**

At first, nothing happened, and for a moment, Morse started hoping that they had been wrong all along, but instead – 

“Ahem” Strange Saud, “Where are all the clouds coming from?”

Of course. Storms. Destruction. Devastation.

The rider would show up any moment now.

Death.

Morse took a deep breath as he closed his eyes, realizing that no matter what happened, he couldn’t allow anything to befall anyone who was around, his friends, while he was still standing.

He would die here, in the old cemetery, protecting them.

He turned to Jakes and admitted quietly, “We failed. You should leave while you still can.”

“And what Aare you doing?”

“Staying, Looking after them.” He nodded towards the group. “There’s nothing else for me to do.”

“No” Jakes said quietly. “There really isn’t, is there?” A half-smile. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be my angel.”

It was at this moment that Morse finally admitted to himself that he loved the demon. Too late, of course; always too late. “We had a few good times, didn’t we?”

Jakes nodded. “Let’s give them a run for their money, then”.

He held out his hand.

Morse stared at it for a moment until it clicked. “You want to –“

“No point me going away without you, is there? We’ve been two parts of a whole for too long.”

And he was right. Jakes was absolutely, completely right, and there was nothing Morse could do but reach out and grasp the offered hand.

Now that they were finally, utterly on the same side, their hands and minds joined in purpose, he felt his Grace almost bursting, and could do nothing but let his wings show. He felt more than saw Jakes do the same.

A gasp caused him to turn around and see Strange’s mouth fall open; Trewlove looking intrigued; Mrs. Thursday having pulled Milly against her once more; and DI Thursday apparently unsure how to act, but there was no time to explain.

“So, if we –“

But he didn’t get to finish the sentence, for suddenly, lightning struck a gravestone next to them, and then He came.

On a white horse, wearing a crown.

(Morse would alter swear he could hear Jakes mumble “overdramatic bugger” under his breath).

Death was here, and he was ready to rule over them all.

He swallowed, then turned to look at them all. “Don’t worry. We’re here to protect you.” He bent down to Milly, never letting go of Jakes’ hand. “Now, this isn’t your fault, alright? I’m sorry we scared you. We’ll do our best to keep you safe”.

Even if they couldn’t.

Milly looked at him, then, her eyes wide. “You’re nice.”

“Thanks for that” Jakes drawled, squeezing Morse’s hand. “But yes, what does it matter now? We’re super nice.”

Milly swallowed, then looked at them and Mrs. Thursday in turn.

And then, she quickly and quietly closed the book, as if it was nothing.

And Death vanished.

Morse, utterly confused, looked at Jakes, but he was as baffled as he was. “For Heaven’s sake, what –“

“I should have known it would be you, Morse”.

Gabriel. After all of this, _bloody Gabriel._

And he was holding a demon’s hand.

His first instinct was to let go, his second was to never do so again, and therefore, he simply turned around. “Gabriel.”

But he ignored him – if only for the moment – to stroll up to Milly. “Young lady, you must reopen the book. This is not how it was written.”

“But…”

“No buts. It is written. Death must ride once more.”

“But” she repeated, biting her lip, “Death isn’t good.”

“I agree with her there” Strange said, looking rather white.

“Death isn’t good” she repeated once more, looking at them all in turn with wide eyes.

“No, sweetie” Mrs. Thursday said gently, “I know this is confusing…” she turned to Morse, completely ignoring the fact that he was holding Jakes’ hand.

And that they had wings.

“I mean... what _is_ going on here?”

“That is not for you to know, my good lady” Gabriel declared pompously. “And you, you spoiled brat, you better do as you’re told, or I’ll –“

“Oy, I don’t care who you are, you’re not threatening a child on my watch” DI Thursday declared, stepping up to him.

“Indeed not” Trewlove decided.

“Gabriel…” Morse tried again.

“You” he said, turning to him, “Will be dealt with. All of this – your little human friends, trying to stop the Ineffable Plan – is bad enough. But this?” he glared at his and Jakes’ clasped hands. “Consorting with a demon?”

And Morse suddenly and quite clearly realized that he wasn’t scared in the least.

And so he looked him straight into the eyes and quietly and openly admitted for the first time, “I love him.”

He heard Jakes’s surprised “Ngk” but didn’t look at him.

“Even worse” Gabriel sneered. “You will most definitely be punished, and I mean it.”

“Now, wait a second, mister” Strange suddenly piped up; until now, he’d been busy eying their wings, his mouth still open. “Sounds to me like you’re here threatening a police man…”

“Most definitely” Trewlove chimed in.

“Shall we bring him in, sir?” Strange asked.

Mrs. Thursday was once again busy quietly talking to Milly, undoubtedly trying to keep her calm.

Gabriel only sneered some more. “Your puny human cells wouldn’t hold me, you ugly bag of mostly water.”

Strange was obviously trying to figure out if he should feel insulted by that, and Morse and Jakjs stepped up to Mrs. Thursday and Milly.

“Mrs. Thursday? Could we talk to her, please?`”

“Now Milly” she immediately said, “I get that you were a little scared when Morse and… Peter showed up, but like you said earlier – they are nice. They just want what’s best for you. Morse’s a police man too, he wants to help people. Yes?”

She looked at her with big eyes, then nodded.

Morse let go of Jakes’ hand and kneeled down so he could be on eye level with her. “Milly. I’m really sorry for having scared you before. It’s just that this is awfully important, so I need you to listen to me very carefully.”

She nodded. And he startlingly recalled the little girl in Jericho. She’d looked just like that.

Or maybe he was seeing things.

“You got wings” she said suddenly. “They’re really pretty. His too, even though they’re black.”

“I’m an angel” he told her, ignoring Strange whispering “He’s what now?” to Trewlove.

She nodded again, proving once more that children could cope much better than adults.

“And so’s he” he nodded towards Gabriel who was still watching the assembly with every expression of disdain I could think of.

“But angels are supposed to be nice! Like you!”

“My word, ki- Milly” Jakes drawled.

“I assure you, this one’s quite nice. That dick – not so much.”

“Now, really, dear, do you have to use such language in front of a child?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Thursday.”

“Should we arrest the chap now, sir?”

“I told you –“

“The thing is” Morse quickly continued “If you open the book and it stays open, Death will ride and the earth will be destroyed.”

“But why?”

“Because it is God’s will” Gabriel said. “So would you do as you’re told?”

“I don’t see why the world needs to be destroyed” Mrs. Thursday said. “I mean, I don’t think we as a species have done everything right, but most of us are trying – “

“And I personally don’t care much for hearing that my children are in danger” DI Thursday growled.

“And anyway” it was Trewlove who piped up, “How can you know that it wasn’t the Plan all along that _we_ should be _here_ all along? I mean it makes sense, doesn’t it, Jim?”

Strange had the quickness of mind to nod although his expression suggested that nothing about this made sense to him.

“You are perfectly right… WPC Trewlove, wasn’t it?” Jakes asked as calmly as possible while actually fishing a cigarette out of his pocket. “I mean, if She don’t want us to save the world, then why did we find Milly?”

“I don’t want to destroy the world” she suddenly said quietly. “There’s so much of it I haven’t seen yet.”

“And she has every right to” Morse said.

“No she hasn’t! The Big Plan –“

“Now wait a moment” Jakes hastened to say, “Big or Ineffable?”

“What does that mattered? They’re the same thing!”

“Oh I don’t know” Mrs. Thursday decided to join in the conversation, “You know, I raised two children, and I learned early on that the meaning of words is important…”

“Mrs. Thursday…” Morse tried.

“Hush, dear, this man needs to be taught some manners”. She glared at Gabriel ( _Gabriel_ ). “What makes you think you have any right to just show up and declare that everything should be at an end? Because you haven’t, young man, I can tell you that.”

Gabriel apparently had no idea what to say. This was the first time in six thousand years that Morse had seen him speechless, and he rather enjoyed it.

It was Milly who broke the silence. “I am not opening that book! I am not ending the world!”

“A wise decision” he assured her.

She grinned at him.

Gabriel was busy glaring daggers at them both. “If you think for even a second –“

And then lightning struck.

It wasn’t raining, it wasn’t thundering; it was just a single strike of lightning, right on front of Gabriel’s feet.

Jakes laughed; later, he would admit to Morse that he simply hadn’t been able to help it, that it had been as much a panicked reaction as anything else, but it had just seemed right. “Look at that. Seems to me like God has spoken.”

He knew that talking Enochian to an angel as a demon was an insult, but again, he would later confess that he hadn’t cared in the slightest.

Not after what Morse had admitted to.

Gabriel stared, tried to speak. Then, “I will take this up with the Metatron.”

God didn’t even talk to the archangels anymore, Morse realized.

Gabriel vanished.

Milly looked at each of them in turn and then, to his surprise, held out the book to him. “Will you look after it? For me?”

He relaxed and carefully took it out of her hands. “Of course, dear.”

“Well then” Jakes said. “Since –“

Gabriel reappeared, looking utterly contrite and chastened, if also angry at the same time. “here will be no punishment” he declared “And no Apocalypse. However, I want you two to know that, should you ever defy Heaven _or_ Hell again, I will be most displeased.”

It was an empty threat, and they all knew it.

Gabriel vanished once more, once and for all (as Morse hoped.)

It was Strange how then voiced what everyone must be thinking.

“What the hell are you, and what the bloody devil just happened!?”

“I’m afraid” Morse said “That’s quite a long story.”

**That evening**

The Thursdays had taken it upon themselves to escort Milly home, Strange and Trewlove had agreed to return to the station (the former still looking rather confused) and Morse and Jakes had set upon tidying up.

No one needed to know that the world had just almost ended, so no one needed to worry about the lightning strike; and of course they needed to take the book to a save place.

That save place turned out to be Morse’s.

He was currently flipping through the book, despite Jakes’ protests. He would have thrown the thing into a volcano if he could, but Morse had argued that it was now no longer a threat since Milly had decided against reopening it, and anyway, you don’t destroy books or something like that.

“Just blank pages” he muttered. “All of this would have ended over blank pages.”

“But it didn’t ‘cause we managed just fine.” He paused for a moment. ”Alright maybe we just really really lucked out back there.”

“You think?” Morse asked sarcastically as he carefully closed the book and laid it down on the table.

Jakes took a deep breath. Alright, here goes all or nothing. “Morse?”

“Yes?”

“What you said to Gabriel back there – did you mean it?”

“Yes.”

After all those millennia, just a casual yes.

But he had to make sure.

“All of it?”

“If you’re asking me if I love you, Jakes, the answer is yes.”

Again, all those millennia, and now he had no clue what to do or say.

Morse stood up and slowly reached out to him. “And you’re still here, so I assume… it’s reciprocated?”

Jakes couldn’t help it; he began to laugh and laugh and laugh.

When he’d finally stopped, he saw that Morse was looking hurt “You didn’t have to be mean about it” he mumbled.

“No. no no no no. Wait a second.”

He moved closer and took his hands. “Of course I love you. I laughed because everyone who’s ever seen us together has to know I love you. Mrs Thursday figured it out after five seconds!”

Morse bit his lip. “So what now?”

“So now” he said quietly “We can be whoever and whatever we want.”

And he gently brought their lips together.

This, he decided quickly, had definitely been worth the 6000 years of waiting.

**A cottage in South Downs – Twenty Years Later**

“Oy lad” the by-now retired DCI Thursday began, sitting down next to Jakes, “Am I correct to assume it’s no coincidence my old bones don’t bother me much right after we see you two?”

He smiled as he watched Morse play around with the Thursdays’ grandchildren. “He’s sentimental.”

Even if they had been forced to relocate ten years earlier when it had become obvious to even their passing acquaintances that they weren’t aging.

They’d kept contract with a select few though (even if Strange was still rather confused on what had happened that day).

“Nothing wrong with that” Thursday said, lighting his pipe. “Just wanted to make sure it’s not taking too much out of him.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m looking after him, like he does after me.”

“Just as it should be, then.”

Jakes met Morse’s eyes and smiled. “Yes” he said. “Just as it should be-“

As, he felt reasonably sure, it would be for millennia to come.


End file.
